broken craggs; below, their steep declivities, shelving to the brink of the river, were covered with miles of woody scenery, over which the eye passed to the bold rugged eminence called Froggat Edge; beyond, in distance, appeared the woods and hills that form the boundaries of Chatsworth Park. The opposite side of the Derwent, from Leam downwards, was scarcely less beautiful: the hills are lofty and extremely precipitous; and they are every where clothed with the finest foliage, that becomes thicker and closer in texture, and deeper in shadow, until it reaches the margin of the river, which appears in occasional glimpses as it pursues its sinuous course, amidst woods and waterfalls, through as picturesque a dale as nature ever formed. Such was the landscape that lay on our left; but the view on our right was still more beautiful: we looked into Hope Dale, a scene that has been panegyrised by all who have visited the Peak of Derbyshire. A lovely light rested upon it, and a blue transparent haze hung over the surrounding mountains, which rose far above the beauteous dale that they encircled, and presented an agreeable variety of pleasing forms and graceful undulations. The whole of this delightful prospect was canopied with a clear azure sky, save where occasionally some light thin clouds interposed their fleecy whiteness "between our gaze and heaven.' Hathersage contains about one hundred houses. Ashton Shuttleworth, Esq. who possesses considerable property in this place, and is lord of the adjoining manor of Padley, has lately erected a very handsome inn in the middle of the village, but the business on this road is apparently insufficient to support so large and expensive an establishment; it is therefore at present untenanted, in which state it has remained for several years. The manufacture of metal buttons was once prosecuted in this place with tolerable success, but it has lately progressively declined, and probably may soon be discontinued. Steel wire and needles are likewise made here, under the direction of men regularly initiated into the business, and in other respects competent to the undertaking. These manufactures may therefore have a more permanent duration; but establishments of this description are perhaps of a nature too exotic to flourish in a place like Hathersage, where the farming interest prevails, and where agricultural employment appears to be more congenial to the feelings and habits of the people. Under the influence of both pursuits this pleasant village may assume an equivocal character, neither entirely possessing the bustle of a manufacturing district, nor the quiet of a place whose inhabitants are solely devoted to the tillage of the fields, and the cultivation of the products of the earth. In the vicinity of Hathersage there are some excellent subjects for the pencil, and while my companion was sketching in the valley below the village, I visited the churchyard on the hill above, where, as tradition informs us, lie the bones of Little John, the favourite companion of the celebrated forest-marauder, Robin Hood. His burial-place is distinguished by stones placed at the head and foot of his grave; they are nearly four yards apart, and are said to designate the stature of this gigantic man. However fabulous this account may be, the body here interred appears to have been of more than ordinary size. In October, 1784, this reputed grave of Little John was opened, when a thigh bone measuring two feet five inches was found within it. A tall man from Offerton, who on account of his stature had probably obtained the name of Robin Hood's faithful follower, was interred in this place: hence originated this village tradition; and that it might be rendered still more marvellous, when the bones were re-committed to the grave, the stones that originally marked the stature of the tall man of Offerton were removed farther apart.* Hathersage Church has a good exterior, and within it is clean, light, and well seated. In the chancel there are several ancient monuments belonging to the family of the Eyres of Highlow and Offerton, one of whom, Robert Eyre, was an officer, who, according to the inscription on his tomb, fought along with Falstaff's mad Harry at the battle of Agincourt. On a tabular monument inscribed to the memory of one of this family, who died March 21, 1459, are the effigies of fourteen children, engraved in brass, ten of whom were sons, *Hathersage is somewhat tenacious with respect to this circumstance in its local history, and insists upon the validity of its claim to the burial place of Little John. The traditional authority on which this claim rests is more than doubtful. Mr. J. A. Walker, in his ingenious" Memoir on the Armour and Weapons of the Irish," annexed to his "Historical Essay on the Dress of the Ancient and Modern Irish," has given some curious particulars relative to the skill of Little John in archery, and he informs us that he terminated his life on the gallows, and that he was " executed for a robbery on Arbor Hill, Dublin." If this author be correct, it is not likely that Little John was buried at Hathersage. and four daughters. A place that appears to have been once filled by another figure is vacant; a daughter not born in wedlock originally occupied it, but being deemed unworthy, without any fault of hers, to be associated with those who were, she has been cut away, and expelled from the situation which her father had assigned her. In this church we observed the traces of a custom that once generally prevailed in various parts of the kingdom, but is now almost totally disused:-When unmarried women died they were usually attended to the grave by the companions of their early years, who, in performing the last sad offices of friendship, accompanied the bier of the deceased with garlands, tastefully composed of wreaths of flowers, and every emblem of youth, purity, and loveliness, that imagination could suggest. When the body was interred, the garlands were borne into the church, and hung up in a conspicuous situation, in memory of the departed. There is something extremely simple and affecting in this village custom, and one cannot but regret that it is now almost entirely discontinued. In Hathersage Church there were several of these memorials of early dissolution, but only one of a recent date; the others were covered with dust, and the hand of time had destroyed their freshness. At a short distance from the churchyard, and still higher up.the hill, there is a place called Camp Green. It is a circular area of about fifty yards diameter, encompased with a high mound of earth, round which a ditch, or moat, appears to have been carried. In some places the ditch is nearly filled up, and the mound is gradually crumbling into the area below; it is therefore highly probable, that before the present generation has passed away Camp Green will be known only by name. SECTION II. Hope Dale.-Recollections of a former Excursion.-Approach to Castleton.-Fine Autumnal Evening.-Castleton Church.Peak's Hole. FROM ROM Hathersage to Castleton, a distance of six miles, the road lies through Hope Dale. Local attachment, and the common consent of travellers, have adorned this dale with a thousand beauties; and those who have the good fortune to reside within it, satisfied that their lot "is cast in pleasant places," represent it as one of the most delightful spots in the Peak of Derbyshire. It is, indeed, a lovely valley, and though inferior in beauty to many other parts of the same county, it yet contains some charming scenes, which, like light thrown into a picture by the hand of a master, have a magical effect. The traveller whose chief object is to reach the end of his journey with all possible expedition beholds them with pleasure, and the artist loiters amongst them with sensations of delight. A beautiful river winds gracefully through the dale, watering some excellent meadow land as it moves along. The cottages with which the valley is studded are of a sober grey tone of colouring, and pleasant to the eye. The villages of Hope and Brough, half hid amongst surrounding trees, and half revealed, increase the loveliness of the scene. Near Malham Bridge, where the road to Castleton crosses the Derwent, some very beautiful views occur; and farther on in the dale the near approach to Hope is extremely picturesque. The little river that passes by this village is overhung with ash and alder, which grow luxuriantly on its banks, amidst hazles, honey-suckles, and wild roses. My journey through this dale of Hope was rendered peculiarly interesting by the recollection of having passed the same road several years before, in company with a much-esteemed and now-departed friend. He was then unwell, but not at all apprehensive that he should so soon go to the "home of his fathers." Our former friendship-his character and AUTUMNAL EVENING. 183 death came forcibly upon my mind, and absorbed for a time every other consideration: he had a warm, benevolent, and affectionate heart; and though somewhat hasty in temper, he was steady and sincere in his attachments, and his transactions with mankind were invariably regulated by principles of honour and integrity: he "should have died hereafter." I well remember the time we passed this dale; it was a fine autumnal evening, and the sun was sinking behind the high mountains of the Winnats, as we approached the village of Castleton. The sweet serenity of the sky-the hour of the day—the season of the year-all were in unison, and conspired to produce a mental harmony: "For autumn-solemn, tender, and serene- MONTGOMERY.-MS. A little before us the river, rippling o'er its pebbled bed, quivered with light; a bridge, to which we were led by a turn in the road, was a good object in the foreground of the landscape; some full-grown and well-clothed trees hid the greater part of the village, and made it a better subject for the pencil: a few dwellings were partially displayed, over which rose the tower of the church, but not one obtrusive feature appeared to disturb the repose of the scene; and the extent of the place might be traced by the smoke from the cottage chimnies, as it slowly ascended above the loftiest branches of the intervening trees. A steep and rugged hill lay on our left, on whose summit stands an old dilapidated castle, venerable in ruins and hoary with years. Beyond the village, the view is terminated by the high rocks and bleak eminences of the Winnats, and a little to the right, Mam Tor rears her majestic head above the surrounding hills. The space between Castleton and the mountains that bound the western extremity of the vale was indistinct and in shadow, whilst the last light of the setting sun, gradually softening until it became exquisitely tender, lingered on the tops of the adjacent hills. A combination of more favourable circumstances could hardly occur; and a soothing tranquillitya mild and chastened glow of pleasurable feeling took possession of the mind as we contemplated the scene before us. Our carriage moved slowly along as I hastily wrote the following impromptu to the setting sun: |