are led onwards alongside a little streamlet: now the roof rises into lofty vaults, whose top is lost in the deep shadow; presently it sinks so low that you are constrained to stoop till your back aches again; and so you pass on by winding ways till you reach the farthest point that has been attained, some 750 yards from the entrance. By this time you are able to discern the objects around more distinctly; and in returning can make out the forms of the several chambers. Some are very remarkable. One is a cavity that rises to an amazing altitude. By the aid of a 'Bengal light,' which the guide fires at some height up this opening, you see the sides far up brilliantly illumined, yet can hardly perceive the roof. Other cavities there are scarcely less remarkable, though of less extent; to exhibit these artificial lights are also employed. At one spot, where is a series of arches almost as regular as though wrought by hand, a red light has of late been used. As you look from a distance towards the light, the effect is very singular. Contrasting with the fitful lurid glare that plays over every projecting fragment, and throws the arches into strong relief, are deep gloomy recesses, which seem as though within them some mysterious occupants were moving stealthily about. Just the 'robbers' cave' would it seem to be of some old romance that haunted the imagination in one's youthful days. Besides these lights, which are brought to show the height and form of the principal chambers, candles are in others so placed as to produce a pleasing or curious effect: and, occasionally, at one spot, a band of singers is assembled high up in a sort of natural loft, to greet the visitor. At one place a blast of gunpowder, which has been fixed in a bore in the rock, is discharged. And this produces the most surprising effect of all. The report is usually described as "seeming to roll along the roof and sides of the cavern like a heavy and continuous peal of thunder." But this is not exactly its character. The first report is perhaps like a burst of overpowering thunder, save that it is more intense; but then the reverberations resemble a prolonged rushing sound, which grows fainter and fainter till it dies away in a whisper, like that of a gentle breeze stirring softly among the leaves of some ancient grove. It would be idle to stay to mention the trivial names of the various chambers :-Roger Rain's House, where a spring finds its way downwards, falling from the roof in a perpetual shower;-the Devil's Wine Cellar (which by the way is empty), and the like, would suggest little in themselves, and require a considerable space to explain. Not the least noteworthy thing connected with this strange place, is the very singular and beautiful effect of the daylight streaming into the mouth of the cavern, as it appears to you on emerging from the darkness. Vain attempts have often been made to depict this effect-it is inimitable, as it is indescribable. The castle on the summit of the lofty Castle Hill, directly over the entrance to the cavern, appears to have been erected in the Norman era by Peveril, surnamed from his abode,' of the Peak.' Its history might be worth repeating had we time. Sir Walter Scott's use of it in his novel of the same name will of course be remembered. Only the keep of the castle (which never seems to have consisted of much more than a keep), and that in a very decayed condition, remains. It is worth while, however, to ascend to it for the sake of the prospect. There are several other caverns, in their way hardly less interesting than the Peak Cave; but a mere mention of them will be sufficient. Tre-Cliff, or the Blue John Mine, is remarkable on account of the greater part of the Blue John, or fluor-spar, being procured from it. This beautiful mineral is indeed only found, in a sufficient quantity to render the working profitable in Tre-Cliff, as the hill is called which this mine pierces. But the mine would be sufficiently interesting on its own account: in it are some cavities at least equal in size to those of the Peak Cavern, and far higher. Here too, from the walls, depend vast numbers of stalactites. The works of the mine will of course not be overlooked; by the entrance may be seen a very large block of Blue John. Another block is in the Conservatory at Chatsworth, which, though larger, is of a different and inferior variety. The Speedwell Mine is also worth visiting: it was opened some sixty or seventy years ago, in search of lead; but after the expenditure of £14,000, and eleven years' labour, it was abandoned. Here you are floated along a tunnel, which was cut some 650 yards through the solid rock: he boat is driven along by means of wooden pegs fixed in the sides of the tunnel, against which the guide pushes. The echoes in the tunnel are very fine; the guide, or some one he employs, often amuses the visitor by singing as he passes along; we have seen some whimsical effects produced by ventriloquism-the poor old guide being utterly bewildered by the, to him, unac countable sounds. When this tunnel was wrought thus far, the miners broke, unexpectedly, into a cavern of astonishing magnitude. Downwards is an abyss that almost makes you dizzy in looking into, as you listen to the long pause there is ere a stone cast in plunges into the water at the bottom. The guide declares that it has not been fathomed; but Mr. Adam says that "the actual depth in standing water is about 320 feet." Upwards, the fissure reaches beyond the means of admeasurement. "Rockets, of sufficient strength to ascend 450 feet, have been fired without rendering the roof visible." It ought to be told, as a striking instance of perseverance, that even the breaking into this cavern did not put a stop to the works. The daring miners cast a bridge over the fearful abyss, and recommenced tunnelling on the other side: nor did they stop till, after carrying it, as is said, some 600 yards further, without finding a vein of lead that was worth working, they were compelled, after eleven years' continuous labour, to stop, from having exhausted their funds. In the course of the working, upwards of 40,000 tons of rubbish are said to have been thrown into the bottomless pit,' as the guide calls it, without any perceptible difference being produced in its depth; but the keeper of the Peak Cavern asserts that enormous quantities of this rubbish were brought there by floods. | earth-work. Of all the rock and mountain scenes, wherein water does not enter into the combination, which distinguish this part of the county, the grandest is that through which the old Buxton road was carried, the Winnats, or Windgates, as it is appropriately named. It has no rival here; to match it you must go to Wales or Cumberland. The Winnats is a narrow mountain gorge, three-quarters of a mile long, which forms the natural western entrance to the valley in which Castleton lies. In going to the Blue John Mine you pass up it, but its savage grandeur is only fairly seen in descending it. On either hand rise precipitous mountains, strangely reft and shattered, yet answering to each other, line for line and curve for curve, as though in some mighty convulsion the earth had opened and the sides of the gaping fissure had been suddenly arrested, and for ever fixed apart. Along the narrow bottom of the cavity the road passes, but so rapid is the inclination, that though the new road, also a steep one, winds far away, almost encircling the base of the vast hill, there are few who do not prefer to drive through it. The Winnats should be descended at the fall of the day. Then when the narrow ravine is in deep gloom, the projecting crags, which stand out detached from the parent hills, appear like keeps set up aloft to defend the pass; and as the hills so interlock that at every bend you seem shut in beyond chance of escape, it assumes as you advance a continually more and more wild, stern, and romantic character, till the valley opening before you displays between the parting barriers of rock a peep of clear open country, and suddenly changes the scene to one which seems by contrast as beautiful as the other was grand. But the impression of this pass may be greatly heightened by accidental circumstances: we have descended the Winnats when the night was rapidly drawing on, and in storm, and almost doubted whether we had ever beheld a prospect more sublime. Another of the passes by which Castleton is approached is Cave Dale, a narrow ravine, as bare and wild a spot as the Winnats, though not so magnificent: It winds round the Castle Hill, and is the original northern entrance to Castleton. Cotton tells a long story of a strange adventure which befel a countryman returning home on horseback through this 'Cave's Way,' as it appears to have been called when he wrote. Among the ancient "seven wonders of the Peak," besides the Peak Cavern, which is in Castleton, there are two others that belong to the neighbourhood: they are worth visiting, though they have long ceased to be regarded as the marvellous objects they once were. Mam Tor, or the Shivering Mountain, is about a mile and a half west of Castleton. It is a nearly insulated mountain, rising steeply to a height of 1,300 feet above the valley. On the summit are traces of an ancient All the sides are steep, but the southern is an abrupt cliff-like slope, the face of it being wholly formed of loose shattered fragments of the sandstone and shale of which the mountain is composed. This broken material (answering to the screes of the Cumberland mountains) slides down with the least additional weight; frosts, or storms, frequently disturb the masses of loose rock above, and they in their fall set the whole face of the hill in motion. The story told of old by the natives was, that the mountain was by a constant shivering motion perpetually casting off the loose stone, whence the accumulated debris at the base; but (and this was the wonder) notwithstanding this enormous waste, there was not the smallest decrease in the bulk of the Tor itself. Mam Tor should be climbed for the sake of the view from the summit-to our thinking one of the finest of the mountain views in the Peak. Odin Mine, no great distance from Mam Tor, is supposed to have been worked by the Romans. The name, it is hardly necessary to say, is Scandinavian. There is little doubt that it is one of the oldest lead-mines in this part of Derbyshire. The other wonder we alluded to will be found in Peak Forest, about half a mile from the village of the same name, and two miles south of Mam Tor. Eldon Hole is a cavern which, instead of piercing the side of a hill in a horizontal direction, descends perpendicularly, and has for its mouth a chasm of about 30 yards long and 10 wide-a sufficiently formidable place, but very different to what it was once thought to be. "This hole," said young Browne, "is a fitter place for cleanly conveyance than any I know, and anything once thrown in is as safe as if it were in the moon :" and he adds the story so often told, of a traveller being robbed and then thrown in, horse and all-as was confessed by the murderer when dying. Cotton declares that the appearance of the yawning gulf is so horrible, that not only did his "heart beat and eyes with horror stare," as he peeped into it, but that in merely writing the description. "his hand trembles and his cheeks turn pale"-he adds, comically enough, that if any can look in and "keep his hair from lifting off his hat," he must certainly either have no hair or wear a wig. Of the interior nought was known for though a mercenary fool, by lucre tempted," was induced by the Earl of Leicester to descend into the gulf, when he was drawn up again he had lost his senses, and died a few days after. Its depth has never been fathomed; he says, "But I myself, with half the Peak surrounded, Eight hundred fourscore and four yards have sounded; 'Wonders of the Peak.' In recent times it has been often explored and sounded. There is nothing remarkable in the appearance of the interior; and the depth is diminished to about sixty yards! Cotton evidently did not know how to "heave the lead." Of its frightful aspect modern visitors dispose very cavalierly. "Unassisted by fable and the Z-VCL. I. babbling of the credulous gossip tradition," says Mr. Rhodes, "there is nothing either vast or astonishing in this fissure in the limestone strata: it is a deep yawning chasm, entirely devoid of picturesque appendages, and altogether as uninteresting as a hole in a rock can possibly be." So passeth away the Wonderful! Yet this is rather too rough usage; for what 'picturesque appendages' could possibly be expected to be found connected with a yawning fissure, or, if the term be preferred, a hole in a rock? Well, we may leave Castleton now. These things are but a sample of what may be found there. Visitors generally take a rapid survey of two or three of the most celebrated objects, and are whirled away after a stay of a few hours in the village: but in truth there is sufficient to occupy not hours merely but weeks, if weeks could be spared. THE HIGH PEAK. Indeed, we are inclined to fancy that a young man with health and time, and a hearty liking for the country, would find the High Peak district much better worth staying in and thoroughly exploring than is commonly supposed. Those parts which are usually traversed are pretty well known, but there are considerable tracts which are seldom seen, and in and about them there is not only a good deal of scenery of a superior kind—though perhaps nowhere equal to those more famous spots which attract pilgrims from all parts-but there is also many a sequestered village and rude homestead where some vestiges of primitive habits yet linger. In the district we have gone over are some of these places; but we are referring now rather to the broad wild moorland country extending north of Castleton and away to the right and left. It is a different kind of country in every respect to that usually gone over by tourists. Long desolate tracts occur though not without oases; rough roads and craggy hills must be gone over, and sometimes rough accommodation and rude fare be put up with. But these would in themselves be salutary and even agreeable to one graduating as a traveller. It is true, intellectually as well as physically, that "A good digestion turneth all to health." (IIerbert.) seem as though the waves of a boiling sea had been transformed into everlasting granite. This is rather a wild moorland waste, the entire surface of which appears to have been heaved up, and then to have subsided into an irregular succession of acclivities and declivities, which ever and anon break into bold and lofty hills and bluff tors, with deep valleys between. The whole area of the High Peak is considerably elevated, so that none of the mountains assume the appearance we are apt to consider essential to a mountain, of "piercing the sky." These heights do not rise into spiry pinnacles belted with clouds, though clouds often rest upon them: nor are there ridges which seem the home of mist and flitting vapours. The grand atmospheric effects, so constantly observable among the Cumberland mountains, for example, must not be looked for here. Yet these moorland heights are not uninfluenced by the atmosphere, nor without their changing effects of sunshine and shadow. Often when clouds are passing rapidly over the sky, the effect of the broad shadows skimming over these wide swelling moors is extremely fine: and when a storm is gathering in the distance, or involving in its gloom one and another of the mountain ridges, and the lightning is playing upon the bleak tor, and the thunder reverberating from side to side, the least impressive prospect becomes grand, and the nobler scenes almost sublime. When, too, the storms are passing off, and the valleys glitter under the vivid rays of the sun, and the rainbow is bridging the deep ravine, a new loveliness is imparted to the loveliest spot, and the dreariest is rendered pleasing. Nor must it be supposed that only on the heights is beauty or grandeur to be found. Everywhere are there pretty rapid streamlets working their way through cheerful and often beautiful dales. Sometimes, too, good-sized rivers are met with, which might well furnish the painter with many a choice study of rock and water and overhanging foliage. The upper course of the Derwent, for example, yields many a charming picture, sometimes of close and shady nooks,—at others broad and open scenes, with a lofty moor filling up the distance. (Cut, No. 6.) The Ashop, too, the Alport, and the Noe, have some very pleasant scenery along their banks. Mr. Montgomery's poem, 'The Peak Mountains,' will be a safe and sufficient guide to the poetic features of the High Peak. In this northern portion of the High Peak it is that But we must break off, only mentioning, before we the peak mountains attain their greatest altitude. The quite leave this part of our tour, two or three places— mighty range, called emphatically The Peak, falls little out of the wilder country, though still in the High short of 2,000 feet: Ashop Moor, at the eastern ex- Peak-which ought, if possible, to be visited. Hathertremity, being 1,880 feet, and the Peak at the western sage is one of these: it is in a picturesque spot, and is 1,980 feet above the level of the sea, while the inter- picturesque in itself: it has, too, its little lions. The vening Edge' is seldom much depressed. Some of country-people boast that Little John, the redoubted the peaks towards Glossop are above 2,000 feet high; companion of Robin Hood, was buried there: they point but the country there is hardly so striking in character. out his grave in the churchyard, and ask you to notice In speaking of these Peak mountains, the reader must the head and foot stones, which are eleven feet apart. not imagine that this is a mountain district similar in From Hathersage you may follow the Derwent down character to that of Cumberland or Wales-where, a beautiful valley to Stoke, and then turn aside to looking from some watch-tower in the skies," it might | Eyam. The chief interest connected with this little 66 |