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lebrity from a romantic incident; but the unfortunate lady, borne on the pinions of love, cowered to the earth without essential injury.

Curiosity prompted us to visit a smelting furnace, by the side of the road, where the lead ore of the Peak, chiefly in the galena form, is run into metal. The workmen explained the whole process, and informed us of the extent of the manufactory, which belongs to a Mr. Barker of Scotland.

Ore

is sometimes found in the Peak, containing ninety per cent. of metal. The work is said to be productive and profitable. There is nothing worthy of detail in the operation of smelting

The flues of the furnaces are carried far up the hill, to carry off the poisonous fumes of the lead.

We arrived at Castleton, near the extremity of the Peak, at about 7 o'clock in the evening. The peep into the vale, in which it stands, from the brow of the high hill, down which the road descends, is novel and beautiful. A perfectly smooth, green, and deep ravine, six or eight miles long, and two wide, divided into small fields by hedge-rows, stretches a thousand feet beneath you. Several small villages, with thatched roofs, and as many antique spires, contribute to the picturesque scene.

After tea, fatigued as we were with the visit to Haddon Hall and Chatsworth, we walked to "Peveril's Place in the Peake," over which the genius of Sir Walter Scott has thrown a new charm. It is a most interesting ruin, and its location contributes much to its effect, standing on an eminence several hundred feet above the village, on which it looks down, like an eagle from the crag. It is inaccessible on all sides, except the north, occupying a peak where the cliffs are perpendicular, and a tremendous gulf yawns below. The Castle was built by William Peveril, supposed to be the natural son of William the Conqueror. A tournament once took place within the walls, at which princes and knights of lofty bearing contended for the prize of beauty, who was a heroine and would wed none but an accomplished warrior.

Our ascent was extremely wearisome, being up a steep and green acclivity, without a path or foot hold. Fortunately the distance was not great. All the materials for the Castle and the enclosure must have been carried up this hill; a work which seems impracticable without artificial means, no traces of which remain. William of Derby must also have led his troops up the steep, when he took the Castle by

storm. If it was as toilsome to them as to us, feeble indeed must have been the garrison to yield to an assault. The visit, however, richly rewarded the labour of ascending. We reached the summit just at sunset. The rampart, now

in ruins, encloses an area of an acre or more. A flock of sheep were grazing within the wall, or lying upon the green sod. In a copse of thick wood, hanging upon the verge of the cliffs, jack-daws in great numbers nestled among the leaves, as they sought their homes for the night. The min

gled notes of the villagers-the low of cattle and the noisy mirth of children "came softened from below," strongly reminding us of the beautiful picture in Goldsmith's Deserted Village.

The Castle is about twenty feet square and thirty or forty in height. It is fast going to decay. The steps have already fallen, so that there is no means of ascending to the battlement. Green shrubs, springing from the crevices in the interior, peep above the parapet; and a kind of dry mountain grass, growing upon the projections, covers a considerable part of the outside. A view of the grey ruin by twilight, associated as it is with military events, feudal feats, and marvellous traditions, was extremely interesting. Having completed the survey, we seated ourselves upon a fragment of the wall, and waited nearly an hour for the moon to rise. A pyramid of light was at length seen upon the opposite hill, and the full orb, in all its glory, soon met our view, although not till it had been two hours above the horizon. For some time, the silver chariot of Dian, almost exemplifying the personification of the ancient poets, appeared to roll along the mountain, its height increasing nearly in proportion to her ascent towards the zenith. Our visit was prolonged, till her beams threw our shadows upon the Castle, when breaking a fragment from the rock, and culling wild flowers blooming upon the ruin, as also sprigs of the ivy with which it is mantled, we descended the hill much more expeditiously than it was climbed. To add to the romance of the evening, a call was made at the village church, on our way to the hotel, where we lingered for half an hour in looking through the Gothic windows, and in reading inscriptions upon the tomb-stones by moonlight. Thus ended the toils and the pleasures of an eventful day.

Before breakfast the next morning we were again upon the alert. A guide conducted us to the Peak Cavern, the

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entrance of which is at the base of the precipice, upon which the Castle stands, several hundred feet above. The mouth of this cave is a stupendous arch, the span of which is 120 feet, and its height about 70. It is a little depressed in the centre, as if by the weight of the incumbent strata, forming a perpendicular cliff of limestone 250 feet high. The length of the first cavern is 180 feet. Its roof is fantastically hung with stalactites, formed by the dripping of the water. A crystal stream, sufficient to turn a mill, issues from its mouth. To add to the novel and striking scenery, its entrance has been converted into a work-shop, for the manufacture of twine, and the voices of the workmen, in calling to one another in the operation, send back unearthly sounds.

At the termination of the first cavern, our guide committed us to the charge of his son, a lad of fourteen, and his little daughter, at the age of eleven. This arrangement was not perfectly satisfactory, but was agreed to, rather than to retreat. Each of us took a lighted candle, and entering through a rude wooden gate, commenced our subterranean tour of observation. The first pause is at a point called the bell-house, where there is an enlargement of the cave, and the roof assumes the shape of a bell. On leaving this place, the rock is so depressed, that the visitant is obliged to stoop to pass through. But this is nothing to what follows. Proceeding another stage, we came to a Stygian Lake, boat and all, except Charon, who was to be personated by our elder guide, having every requisite qualification, saving age and a grey beard. In his squalid garments, and his crazy, iron-coloured boat, he was not a whit behind the ferryman of Tartarus. The vessel was oval, just long enough for a person to recline at full length, and of sufficient breadth for two to lie abreast. make an easy and clean bed.

It was filled with straw, to Onward was the word; and following the direction of our guide, we both embarked, lying upon our backs, to enable us to pass beneath the roof, which descends close to the water. The boy planted himself in the prow, and the little girl in the stern; and thus fitted out, we commenced our voyage over the Styx, each holding his candle in his hand. Young Charon navigated without oars or setting-poles, pushing the boat along by thrusting his hands against the roof. The scene would have been ludicrous enough to a spectator. Our lights "burned blue," and gave a ghastly complexion to the countenance.

Debarking for the first time beyond the waters of the 'nether world, we soon arrived at a spacious cavern 250 feet long, 200 wide, and 120 high. The rocks around are rugged, and the floor is covered with loose fragments, broken from the walls and roof by some great convulsion of nature. On the right hand of the subterranean passage is a lofty gallery, called the Throne of Pluto. His inexorable godship was not seated on it; though a more stately one, and surrounded with more horrors, cannot well be imagined. Our junior guide, who resembled Hecate rather than Proserpine, with the candle in her hand, and with the fleetness of the antelope, ascended the precipitous rocks to the summit, and lighted up the gallery with a dozen tapers, previously placed in the cliffs. Her ascent and descent; the lights so far above us; the echoes of her footsteps; and the sound of our own voices, seemed more like enchantment than reality.

Passing "Roger Rain's house," so called from the constant percolation of the water through the roof, we descended by a flight of grotesque steps for the distance of 150 feet, into the "Devil's Cellar," beyond which is the half-way house-an abode as inhospitable as the leaky mansion that had just been left. Here the stream, which issues from the mouth of the cavern, becomes visible, babbling along the rocks, and its murmur breaking the dreary silence of the chasm. Proceeding beneath three bold and well turned arches, we came to a station called "Tom of Lincoln," and soon after reached the extremity of the cave, at the distance of 2250 feet from its mouth.

It now remained to retrace our footsteps, pausing at every turn, to examine the structure of the rocks, and the stalactites pendent from the roof. The formation is of limestone, with intermixtures of exuviæ, several specimens of which were brought away with us. It is a damp, gloomy, and unhealthy region. Our breaths were visible, as in a cold, frosty morning; and my friend complained of a slight affection in his respiration, which was not experienced by myself. A safe voyage across the lake, and the return to a region of light, afforded us not less pleasure than the novelties of this Cimmerian realm. On emerging from the cave, the first glance at the green valley aud sloping hills, illuminated by a bright morning sun, was brilliant beyond description. The excursion occupied something more than an hour, and gave us a fine appetite for breakfast.

Our next pedestrian tour of observation was of a very different description, leading us as high above the earth, as we had just descended into its depths. It was a walk to Mam Tor, or the Shivering Mountain, so named from the masses of rock, which are decomposed by the frost and the influence of the atmosphere, and slide into the vale below. The noise is said to be sometimes tremendous. It is a hill of shale, and readily crumbles on being touched. The report, that the size of the mountain is not diminished, nor the quantity of the fragments increased, by the masses constantly sliding down, is a mere superstition, arising probably from an optical deception, as it respects the dimensions of the hill. Its height is about 1500 feet, with a naked face or cliff, nearly perpendicular. We climbed to its top, and had a fine view of the quiet Vale of Hope, on the other side; of the whole region about Castleton; and of the distant mountains of Wales. The ascent was extremely arduous, being in some places so steep as to compel us to crawl on our hands and knees, holding on by the long grass. In this excursion, the Odin Lead Mine, which has been wrought for many centuries, and takes it name from the principal divinity of Scandinavia, was examined; its shaft penetrated to some distance; and specimens of the ore obtained. Our return to the hotel was through the deep pass of castellated cliffs, called the Winnats, Windgates, or in the poetical language of the Peak, "the Portals of the Wind," so denominated from the strong current of air constantly setting through the defile.

LETTER IX.

RIDE TO SHEFFIELD-SKETCH OF THE TOWN-ROUTE TO LONDON-ENTRANCE INTO THE METROPOLIS.

July-August, 1825.-On the afternoon of the 29th we continued our ride to Sheffield, a distance of fourteen miles. The day was intensely warm, the thermometer standing at about 90 degrees; and the coach was constantly enveloped in a cloud of dust. Humid as the climate generally is, there has been but one rainy day since our landing at the Old Head of Kinsale, and that was not so severe as to incommode us or impede our progress.

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