Читать книгу A Companion and Useful Guide to the Beauties of Scotland - Sarah Murray - Страница 10

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The Lakes of Westmoreland and Cumberland, having been so often described, by very able pens, I shall only offer directions for seeing many beauties and curiosities, seldom mentioned by, or known to, general Tourists. I shall notice also inns, and the distances from place to place; avoiding all particular descriptions.

Whoever has been in Lancashire, must be sensible of the bad roads in that county; those who have never travelled these roads, I caution sedulously to avoid them, for the sake of their bones, their carriage, and their purse; the latter will suffer by being taxed three-pence per mile, for post-horses, more than in any other county in the North. Certainly in the South of Lancashire, setting aside the charms of the Lancashire witches (beautiful women), there are fine manufacturing towns to be seen; and around Preston, the country is worth looking at.

​In case a traveller, notwithstanding what I have premised of the Lancashire roads, should like to take a view of the beauties of Derbyshire, about Matlock, Buxton, &c. and proceed to the Lakes through Manchester, I will give a Guide for that route; and return through Yorkshire; which will make a complete Tour.

From Derby to Matlock, by Keddleston, 21 miles. Keddleston, Lord Scarsdale's, is well worth visiting.

From Matlock, go to see Hardwick Castle. The new house at Hardwick was built in Queen Elizabeth's time, by Elizabeth Countess of Shrewsbury, whose lord had the care of Mary Queen of Scotland for thirteen years; during that period of her confinement, she was indulged by being sometimes at Hardwick, at others at Chatsworth. No part of the old house at Chatsworth now remains, wherein Mary was confined; and at Hardwick, only a tottering staircase and two or three rooms. These remains of the old castle are close to the new house, built by Lady Shrewsbury, after the removal of Mary, and Lord Shrewsbury's death. The house is a huge square building, with six towers. All the floors are stucco. The great staircase is a very extraordinary one; it is of stone, ​very wide, winding in some parts, and detached in a very odd manner. Up two pair of stairs is a gallery of sixty yards long, being one side of the square. The park is seven miles round: the timber at Hardwick is very fine, particularly elms, beech, and ash trees; but no water to be seen.

Balsover Castle is not far from Hardwick; and the town of Mansfield only two miles.

The road to Hardwick from Matlock is through Chesterfield.

From Matlock to Chesterfield 11 miles.

From Chesterfield to Hardwick 9 miles.

From Matlock, may be seen Dovedale, by crossing the country to Ashburn, I believe about 15 miles. The country around Ashburn is beautiful. Sir Brook Boothby's, at the end of the town, is worth seeing. Take a chaise at Ashburn (where there are good inns), for which they will charge twelve shillings; also take a guide, who will expect six shillings for himself, besides the hire of his horse, and go to Okeover, to see the famous picture of the Madona and Child: then proceed to Ilam, a very romantic place. At Ilam, see the spot where two rivers rise within three yards of each other.—Dovedale is very near Ilam; pray walk entirely through it to the caves, for ​there are fine rocks near them. Do not suffer the guide to deter you from stepping from stone to stone, up a small part of the river, in order to get at the Caves; for, by the help of a stick, and a little attention not to slip off the stones, you will easily accomplish it; if you do not go so far, you will not see the most beautiful part of Dovedale.

The principal house at Matlock is the Old Bath. The ordinary there, in 1790, was one shilling and six-pence for dinner; one shilling for supper; eight-pence for tea; ditto for breakfast.

There are two roads from Matlock to Buxton; the one through Bakewell, the other by Chatsworth, and through Middleton dale; a very romantic spot.

From Matlock to Chatsworth, 11 miles.

If the imagination be raised to see fine things at Chatsworth, disappointment must ensue. The building is heavy; the river is spoiled by being shaven and shorn; the fountains are children's spouts; the cascade, which cost so many thousands of pounds, is an affront to the understanding: and, for the sight of these things, you must give the housekeeper and gardener at least five shillings each, or you will hear grumbling.—When noblemen have the goodness to permit their ​fine seats to be seen by travellers, what a pity it is they suffer them to pay their servants' wages.

From Chatsworth to Tidswell, 10 miles.

From Tidswell to Buxton, 7 miles.

The Crescent at Buxton is a very fine building. The assembly rooms are at the great hotel, which is one of the general eating-houses. There is also an ordinary at Saint Ann's hotel, and the Hall. At the Hall are the baths. In the year 1790 each person paid for dinner one shilling and six-pence, for supper one shilling, for breakfast ten-pence, for tea eight-pence. Both at Matlock and Buxton liquor of all kinds, at dinner and supper, must be paid for besides, and procured by your own servant at the eating-houses: this circumstance, and the comfort of having a footman to wait upon you at table, render a male-servant useful at Buxton and Matlock. A person comes round the dinner and supper table, as the cloth is taking off, to collect from each person for the meal. In the great hotel there are many sitting rooms, as well as bed-chambers; the former let for a guinea a week, the bed-rooms, according to their size, from fourteen shillings to a guinea a week. There are many private lodging houses in the Crescent, and in the town of Buxton; and you may join in the public ​ordinary, or have your meals sent to your lodgings from the hotels.

Within a short walk of Buxton is Pool's Hole; a cavern so called from a robber of that name, who made it his hiding-place.

From Buxton go to Castleton; the cavern there, and all the curiosities about it, should be seen. Those who dare to venture into the cave, should provide a change of dress, and they need not fear getting cold or rheumatism. If females, dry shoes, stockings, and petticoats will be requisite; carry also your night-caps, and a yard of coarse flannel, to pin on the head, so as to let it hang loose over the shoulders; it will prevent the dripping from the rocks in the cave from wetting and spoiling your habits, or gowns; also take an old pair of gloves, for the tallow candle, necessary to be carried in the hand, will make an end of all gloves worn in the cavern. Take some snuff and tobacco, which will be grateful offerings to the old witch-looking beings, spinning in the dark mouth of the cave. Go to the further end of the cavern, and if bold, climb to the chancel, where the singers stand. If you have a long nose, take care of it whilst you cross the Styx, or the pointed rocks over your face may take away a bit of it. The ​clear stream which runs through the middle of the cave, purifies the air, so that the candles burn as bright as in a room of a house. You will be absent from the light of the sun full two hours; for the length of the cavern is, at least, three quarters of a mile; and you will have much to see and observe. Pay attention to the glorious effect of daylight when, on the return, you approach the mouth of the cave. When you cross the rivulet in the cavern, on a man's back, take care you do not singe his beard, which a lady in our party did, and was thereby in danger of being dropped into the water. On your arrival at the inn at Castleton, a crowd of guides will offer to attend you: the present made to them must be in proportion to the number of persons in the party, and the number of guides, men, women, and singing children engaged. The candles must be paid for besides. If the party be numerous, the procession under some of the lowest shelves of the rocks in the cave is the most ludicrous scene imaginable:—a long string of uncouth figures, with each a candle in one hand, creeping knees and nose together, in the bowels of a mountain; a rivulet on one side, and prodigious masses of solid rocks closely impending over their heads on the ​other; with gloom and silence reigning, and every one taking heed of his steps.

I happened to be the foremost in our procession, and at the end of the pass turned my head, and beheld coming a tribe, like witches and wizards, creeping and slipping after me. Do not imagine you will see the sides of the cavern sparkling like diamonds: there may be an abundance of shining spar, but the constant dripping of water down the rocks, covers every part of the cavern with a slime, which must deaden the lustre of the stones, were they of ever so shining a nature; but, notwithstanding there is no glitter in the cave, there is much to be admired, particularly wherever there are any smooth parts on the sides of the rocks; there you will perceive an astonishing variety of forms and patterns, created by the drizzling moisture; many of the patterns are not unlike the ramifications on the glass of windows, in a hard frost. If it be safe to enter the cave at Castleton in winter, when the dripping waters are congealed, and icicles hang in every direction throughout the cave, then, indeed, by torch-light, it must be a splendid sight. After you pass the large deep mouth of the cave, you go through a very small door and enter into darkness; you soon arrive at ​Styx' side, and lie flat in a tiny boat, which a man, breast deep in water, pushes to the opposite shore. In the cave the rocks sometimes hang very low; at others, they form aisles and recesses, like those in cathedrals, particularly one, in which is the chancel, the arched roof of which, to my eye, seemed as high as the aisle in Westminster Abbey, where Handel's music was performed. In short, the cave at Castleton is an astonishing natural curiosity.

Castleton from Buxton is about 12 miles. The view going down from the Moor to Castleton is fine. The road is confined by vast mountains and rocks. On the left is the Shivering Mountain, and in front, at a sharp turn round the rocks, Hope Vale presents itself, and appears another world. Either in your way to or from Castleton, you may look into Elden Hole; a tremendous place.

From Buxton to Disley (a very hilly road) 12 miles. In Disley churchyard you may read the following epitaph.—

"Here lies the body of ——— ————:

In science he was a mathematician,

A surgeon good, and a physician.

​In other arts none did him excell,

Within the sound of Disley bell.—

His sudden death was a great surprise,

The warning take, I you advise.

Therefore, be careful how you live,

Death does not always notice give."

From Disley to Manchester, 15 miles. The inns at Manchester are dismal and dirty.

From Manchester to the Duke of Bridgwater's Canal, is only a morning's drive. The country about that canal is very pretty, and the tunnel through the rocks was a great effort of human talent in conceiving, and industry in the carrying it into effect.

From Manchester to Fourlanends, 11 miles; an alehouse only.

To Chorley, 11 miles; a shocking inn.

To Preston, 10 miles; the inn large, but extremely dirty.

To Garstang, 11 miles; the inn rather bad, but beds tolerably clean.

To Lancaster, 11 miles; inns very uncomfortable and dirty.

To cross the sands to Ulverston is 22 miles; which cannot be well performed without four horses, and ​horses too which are used to ford deep rivers; for there are two to be forded. For most part of that journey the sands are as hard, and somewhat resemble, stucco, upon which the horses hoofs scarcely make an impression; but near the rivers that you are to ford, there are spots which apparently shake; and it is known, if a cart, or carriage of any sort, were to stop upon those places, it would sink, and there would be great difficulty in getting it out of the sand, were it not absolutely lost; therefore it is not only necessary to have a guide on horseback, but drivers too, who have been used to cross the sands. It is certainly a matter of curiosity to cross them; but unless you could have a choice of time and weather to go over them, (neither of which you can have), it is hardly worth the trouble and danger of undertaking it; besides you are, for the most part of the way, at such a distance from land, that all the beauties of the shore are only very faintly seen.—Another thing is to be considered, should any unforeseen accident happen to your carriage or horses, while on the sands, the sea might return and overwhelm you, before you could remedy the accident and escape. A thick fog too might come on in the space of three or four hours, ​and render it impossible for you to find your way over the sands, or through the rivers upon them. Many market carts, and people in them, have been lost between Lancaster and Ulverston.

If you do not cross the sands, proceed to Burton, 11 miles. On the road from Lancaster to Burton, look on the left, at a distance, and you will see the sands, and Warton Crag, with villages hanging beautifully on its sides. At a very short distance from Burton is a noble crag, called Farleton Knot; it is said to resemble the rock of Gibraltar.

From Burton, by Milthorp, (and be sure to go to Milthorp) to Kendal, 12 miles. When at Milthorp, walk to Betham Mill, if not too far, through Mr. Wilson's park at Dallam Tower; the Beela river, which falls at Betham Mill, here joins a very broad part of the Kent; and, thus united, they form one of the rivers that are forded on the Lancashire sands. These rivers, when united, and viewed through the trees at Dallam Tower, appear like an arm of the sea, bounded by the rough sides of Whitbarrow Scar.

Proceed to Leven's Hall; it belongs to Lady Andover: it was built about Queen Elizabeth's time. It is the river Kent which runs by it. If ​at Leven's Hall you can get a key to go through Leven's park, you will have a beautiful drive, and be able to see a very picturesque fall of the river. If you cannot procure a key to go through the park, you must go on by Sizergh Hall; which is also a very ancient building, in a very pretty park.

Kendal is situated on the side of a sloping mountain, upon the banks of the river Kent.

The King's Arms is not a good inn, and Masterman, the mistress of it in 1796, was an impertinent fine lady, and unaccommodating to strangers.

From Kendal to Bowness, 9 miles, where there is a very neat inn. I would advise a traveller by all means to approach the Lakes from Kendal to Bowness.

There cannot be a finer view of Winder Mere, than that from the descent to Bowness.

From Bowness go to Newby Bridge, at the foot of the lake, keeping to its bank on the Westmoreland side. Not far from Newby Bridge is a fine water-fall, and the country all around is beautiful. Go on to Ulverston, which is in Lancashire, and then to Furness Abbey, one of the finest ruins in ​the kingdom. You must return to Ulverston, and go to Coniston Water.

From Ulverston, by Coniston Water, to Low-wood, is 24 miles.

Coniston Mere is seen to much greater advantage in going from Ulverston than the contrary way; because you come to the foot of the lake first, which is the tamest part, and approach by degrees to its utmost grandeur, at its head. You will afterwards go round the head of Winder Mere, and arrive at Low-wood inn, a very neat comfortable house; and the Wrights, who keep it, are very civil good people. You ought to make Low-wood your head quarters for some days.—While at Low-wood, go to see Elta Water, near Skelert Bridge, and from thence to Cullert Fall.

See Sir Michael Le Fleming's, at Rydal Hall. See also the Ambleside Fall, within half a mile of the town; the road up to it is by the inn door.

There is a fine pass over Kirkstone, and through Patterdale to Ulswater; but the road of late has been, by violent rains, rendered impassable for a carriage.

From Low-wood to Keswick, 18 miles; one of the finest drives in the world: in that road observe ​Rydal Water, and the rocky romantic pass between it and Grassmere, where you will be introduced into the land of soft, pastoral, calm delight. Admire the mountains as you ascend from Grassmere; by the road's side, at the top of that ascent, is a heap of stones, and there ends Westmoreland, and Cumberland begins. The ridge of mountain on the right is Helvellyn, 3324 feet above the level of the sea, which is somewhat higher than Skiddaw, and it retains the snow upon its top much longer than Skiddaw. In a rainy day, innumerable torrents rush down its sides to the road, and run to the Lakes. About midway between Low-wood and Keswick there is a lake, called Leathes Water; which, though bare of wood, is notwithstanding beautiful. The outline of Leathes Water, the hills around it, and the promontories that run into it, render the tout ensemble striking. You will pass through part of Saint John's Vale before you come within sight of Keswick: the mountains which bound that vale are very fine. Of your own accord you will stop to admire, and almost adore, when you first look upon Keswick Vale, Derwent Water, Bassenthwaite Lake, and the surrounding mountains.

At the Queen's Head, at Keswick, you will be ​well accommodated, and meet with the utmost civility from the Woods, who keep the inn, particularly from Mrs. Wood, who is an exceeding good woman.

The guide charges five shillings a day for his attendance, besides the hire of his horse. If you can ride on horseback, you will be able to see that fairy land far better than in a carriage.

Do not omit going to Watenlagh; it is the most beautiful mountain vale that can be seen; it is literally a valley upon a high mountain, with mountains again rising from it, infinitely higher than the vale. It lies at the top of Lodore Fall, having the rivulet, which is precipitated over the rocks at Lodore, running through it from a small lake at the village of Watenlagh.

Go through Borrowdale, and over the Hawse into Gatesgarthdale. In Gatesgarthdale you will pass under Honister Crag to the left, where are fine slate quarries. From the top of Honister Crag is a prodigiously fine view of the lakes below, and the heaps of mountains all around. The descent from the crag, on the sharp and rocky ridge of it, near to the houses of Gatesgarth, is somewhat tremendous; but it was descended, in 1796, by a female. The head of ​Buttermere is close to the village of Gatesgarth, and you will ride very near that lake all the way to the village of Buttermere; where is an alehouse, at which you can get admirable ale, and bread and cheese, perchance a joint of mutton.

Few people will like to sleep at the Buttermere alehouse: but, with the help of my own sheets, blanket, pillows, and counterpane, I lodged there a week very comfortably.

From Buttermere I one day walked to the Wad Mines, or blacklead mines, and returned over the top of Honister Crag. Another day, I walked over the mountains by Gatesgarth into Innerdale, and through it to Inner Bridge, on the whole, sixteen miles. If possible Innerdale should be seen, for it is beautiful, particularly about Gillerthwaite, at the head of the lake; and again at the foot of the lake, looking up the vale towards its head. At the alehouse at Inner Bridge, I was obliged to pass the night in a chair by the kitchen fire, there being not a bed in the house fit to put myself upon. The next morning I returned over the mountains, by Scale Force, to my lodgings.—But to return to the travellers on horseback.

At Buttermere you may leave your horses, and walk about a mile to Scale Force, a very lofty ​curious waterfall. In your way thither you will have a fine view of Crommack Water, and the noble mountains around it. Return to Buttermere, and ride through Newlands Vale back to Keswick.

When you get to the top of the ascent from Buttermere towards Newlands, look behind you, and you will see a prospect that will delight you. On the descent into Newlands Vale on the right, is a very fine mountain torrent. A carriage can go only a small part of this beautiful ride, namely, to the head of Borrowdale, and back again to Keswick.

Drive on the Cockermouth road to Scale Hill; and if you have not seen Buttermere nor Scale Force on horseback, procure a boat to carry you up Crommack Water, to the landing-place near Scale Force. When you have seen that fall, cross the lake to Buttermere, and afterwards return in the boat to Scale Hill, where you left your carriage. From Scale Hill, see also a small lake near Crommack Water, called Lowes Water; it is very pretty. The view of Lorton Vale, near Scale Hill, is very beautiful, particularly if the sun should be shining upon it.

It is a matter to boast of, that of climbing to the top of Skiddaw; but the view from it is hardly ​worth the fatigue of obtaining it, even in a clear day. On the summit of Skiddaw, to which travellers climb, is a long and broad bed of very large loose pieces of slate. Upon each of the points on this summit of Skiddaw is a huge heap of these slate flakes; one heap is called My Lord, the other My Lady. A dreamer of dreams, not many years since, dreamed that a great treasure was hid under My Lord; the man secretly mounted Skiddaw, removed the slate heap piece by piece; but whether a treasure rewarded him for his labour I never could learn.

Mr. Pocklington has a house well situated on the side of Derwent Water, near Lodore Fall, and he has a very pretty fall of a beck (that is, a small stream) through the wood behind his house; but were I a nymph of Derwent Water, I should, like Niöbe, weep myself to a statue, for the injury committed on taste and nature, by the other erections of that gentleman on one of the islands, and on the banks of this charming lake; for, alas! Mr. Pocklington's slime^[1] may be traced in every ​part of Keswick Vale. It is a pity he has no friend to advise him to blow to atoms every thing he has constructed and planned; and nature, on the ruins, will soon restore its pristine beauty.—Look at Herbert's Island, lately improved by the Rev. Mr. Wilkinson, and you will find taste and nature hand in hand.

Go to Ouse Bridge, at the foot of Bassenthwaite. The views from Ormathwaite and the Vicarage, over the lake to Borrowdale, are enchanting. The walk by the river Greeta, from the lake, towards St. John's Vale, is charming.

If you have time, and can ride on horseback, by all means see Innerdale (before mentioned), and Wast Water. Also ride entirely round Derwent Water; every step you take in that ride will afford you pleasure. About ten o'clock in the morning is the most favourable time to ride on the east side of the lake; the evening, on the west of it; the reason is obvious. An hour or two before noon the reflections of the surrounding objects in the clear lake are more beautiful than can be imagined. The ride from the village of Grange, on the sides

​of the mountains on the west shore of the lake, and through Lord William Gordon's woods round to Keswick, is delightful, in a fine evening, when the setting sun gilds the opposite mountains, crags, and woods.

The glow of colouring peculiar to such scenery as is about the Cumberland and Westmoreland Lakes, must be seen to be understood, for it cannot be described by a pen; and no pencil, that I have ever seen, has produced the genuine tint and style of that country, in any degree equal to the drawings of my friend the Rev. Mr. Wilkinson, of Ormathwaite; who has, in his representations, exhibited the character of the Lakes in as great perfection as is possible for imitation to attain.

The prospect during the whole descent of the Cockermouth road into Keswick (which you will have when you return from Scale Hill), is prodigiously fine.

Inquire concerning the Floating Island. It is not at all times visible, but it may be so when you are at Keswick. It is situated towards the head of the lake, and not far from the landing-place at Lodore. In 1794 it was a trifle above the surface of the water. I inquired after it in 1796, and the ​guide informed me it had not been seen since the time I saw it, in 1794; it was then covered with rushes and coarse grass. It does not vary its situation in the lake, but it moves up and down. Philosophers must assign the cause of its rising and sinking, I cannot. It is, however, a matter of some curiosity.

The Salt Well, on the west side of Derwent Water, is not worth the trouble of getting to it.

The Wad, or blacklead mines, are curious, but difficult of access. In 1796, an overseer at them told me, the pure ore was sold, then, for fifty shillings a pound. I have been informed there are no other blacklead mines in the world, except in some part of the East Indies, and those very trifling. The people of Cumberland are, in general, very honest, but the blacklead is a temptation they cannot withstand; so that during the time the mines are open, the workmen are watched as narrowly as if they were digging for diamonds. These mines are only open for a certain period, then are closed for another period, and then opened again. The blacklead pencils to be had at Keswick are very fine, if bought of an honest maker; but very bad, as well as very good, are made there: it entirely depends upon the ​quality of the ore the pencilmaker puts into his pencils. The ore is sawn into very small wedges, and then cut the length of the pencil.

At Mr. Crosthwaite's Museum may be had charming Æolian harps, for five shillings each.

From Keswick to Penrith, 18 miles. The Crown Inn is an excellent one, kept by very good people, Buchanan and Warmsley, son and daughter to the good woman Mrs. Buchanan, whom Mr. Gray, in his Tour to the Lakes, speaks so handsomely of; and with whom I heartily join in commendation, from my own experience.

From Penrith, go to see a beautiful and romantic place called the Nunnery. Go to Ulls Water, it is a very fine lake: see the waterfall near the Duke of Norfolk's Tower. If you did not cross Kirkstone to Patterdale (which I have before mentioned); now you are at Ulls Water, look at a house at the head of the lake—probably by this time it may be a new building:—in 1794 it was a very old house, called the Haugh, or Hall, and sometimes the palace of the king and queen of Patterdale: at that time the queen was only living, and resided at the old Haugh, with her son and daughter-in-law; who wisely drop the royal title, and are plain Mr. and Mrs. Mounsey. Drive into ​Patterdale, as far as the small lakes in it; that district is truly pastoral, and the conversation of the inhabitants has a simplicity and charm in it extremely interesting.

About half a mile from Penrith, on the Applebey or Shap road, may be seen the spot called King Arthur's Round Table. It is a beautiful small flat between the Lowther and the Emmont rivers, near their junction, with rising grounds around it; the banks of the rivers there are very romantic, and finely enriched with wood, and some rocks.

Return to Kendal by Hawes Water.

From Kendal return to Burton and Lancaster, for the sake of going through Lonsdale.

From Lancaster, by Hornby, to Kirbylonsdale, is as fine a drive as any in England. At the third milestone in the Hornby road, is Mr. Gray's delightful view. The river Lune runs through the vale.

At Kirbylonsdale, the Royal Oak inn is but middling; but the people who kept it, in 1796, were particularly civil and accommodating. Go through the churchyard, and walk to Underlay; it is a beautiful scene, and the banks of the Lune fine and picturesque. The bridge at ​Kirbylonsdale was built by an architect of high antiquity: the legend of it relates, that the devil one very windy night was crossing the high mountain on the side of the Lune, with an apronfull of stones; either the blast, or the weight of the stones, broke the string of the apron, and out fell half the load; with the remainder Old Nick proceeded to the river, and with those stones built the bridge; but not having the whole of his burden, the bridge could not be erected higher than it is. The spilt stones still lie in a heap on the mountain top.

From Kirbylonsdale to Ingleton, 7 miles.—There is a very neat small inn at Ingleton, where any one may rest two or three days very comfortably: this little town is situated amongst crags at the base of the huge mountain, 3700 feet above the level of the sea, called Ingleborough; this mountain is, by some calculations, reckoned to be 3987 feet, and its base to be in circumference between 20 and 30 miles. Just at the entrance to the town are two torrents, as Mr. Gray writes, "with great stones rolling along their beds instead of water;" and over them are thrown two handsome arches. There are numbers of natural curiosities within a short distance of Ingleton, which may be seen with ease, if you have time ​to stay a few days at that village. Upon no account miss the sight of Weathercoate Cove or Cave, if it be not too full of water. Weathercoate Cove is not above a hundred yards out of the turnpike road from Ingleton to Askrigg and Richmond. In this cave, which is deep, is a surprising grand waterfall, the effect of it is astonishing to those who have courage to get at it; but it cannot be described to be perfectly understood. Douk Cove, somewhat similar to Weathercoate Cove, lies on the other side of the turnpike road, about a mile towards the foot of Ingleborough.

At Ingleton are fine slate quarries.

In the neighbourhood of Thornton Churchstile, 6 miles from Kirbylonsdale, are Yordas Cove, Thornton Force, and falls at the head of the river. I believe there is no carriage road to these places.

From Ingleton to Chapel-in-the-Dale, 4 miles; where you will be informed of Hurtlepot Cove, Ginglepot Cove, and Weathercoate Cove.

From Chapel-in-the-Dale, by Horton, to Settle, is 10 miles; but I think not a carriage road. At Horton are many curiosities. On the road to the right is a curious stone quarry. At Stainforth, two waterfalls of the river Ribble. The Vale of ​Horton is so shaded from the sun, and so cold, nothing ripens in it, not even potatoes. It consists of sheep farms, and I was told at Settle, that notwithstanding the dreadful climate of Hortondale, there are, many farmers living in it possessing from two to three hundred pounds a year.

From Ingleton to Settle, by the turnpike road, is 10 miles: that drive is delightful, from the great variety of mountains, wood, crags, and water. The town of Clapham is charmingly situated, and the Clapham Scars are fine; but Crowness Scars, on the left in ascending the mountain before the descent to Settle, are very singular, and particularly grand; being, as it were, a long range of fine castles in ruins, with Gothic gateways, pillars, &c. Just after Crowness Scars, and a short distance from Settle, are the magnificent Giggleswick Scars, under which, close on the road's side, is the well which ebbs and flows.

The situation of Settle is under vast mountains and crags. A whitish rock, like towers, called Castleber rises almost perpendicularity from the houses at the back of the town; it has zig-zag walks made up it, and from the top is an extensive view over Ribblesdale: this rock is walled round to prevent ​cattle or man from injuring it; it now belongs to the town of Settle. The river which runs by Settle is the Ribble. The bed-rooms at the inn are but middling: the parlour is very good, and the Fausets, who kept it in 1796, were very civil, accommodating, intelligent people.

The distance, over the moors and mountains, from Settle to Gordale, is 6 miles.

From Settle to Skipton, by Gordale, the carriage road, is 24 miles. By all means take this round to see, in Gordale Scar, one of the most astonishing, as well as one of the most terrific effects, that can be produced by rocks and felling water, particularly if you should turn round the point of the rock into the hollow, (as I did) in a storm of hail, rain, sleet, and snow, accompanied by a boisterous wind. I took shelter under the bend of the rocks, and the sun shone before I quitted the Scar; but, every step being rendered extremely slippery, it was impossible for me to clamber up the sides of the falls, I therefore lost the grandest effect of the scene. When I approached the Scar I was struck with what I had never seen before, the appearance of a bright buff-coloured waterfall, and a rivulet of the same tint flowing ​from it. The water is as clear as crystal, but tinges of a buff colour the rocks and stones it rolls over.

Close by a small cave below Gordale Scar, is a low waterfall; the trees hanging over it, and the scenery about it, are very picturesque, but on a small scale. At the approach to Gordale Scar, for a quarter of a mile, springs rise at every ten steps.

The alehouse at the village of Maum affords no entertainment for man, and but little for horses: the people too are the most stupid I ever met with, I could procure no information; and it was with difficulty I got a guide, who at last was only a lout of a boy, who could just lead the way to the left, a mile to Gordale Scar; and to the right afterwards, half a mile, to Maum Tor.

Maum Tor is a prodigious pile of rock, shelf upon shelf, rising perpendicularly to an amazing height, at least a hundred yards. Its breadth may be from fifty to eighty yards. From the top, slopes down on each side, a rugged moor. The top itself is a wild moor, full of bogs. In hard rains a cataract tumbles from the top to the bottom of ​this mass of rock, which, at all times, is in a drizzling state: small shrubs hang about the projections of the rocks in every direction; moss, and the yellow and green tints of time and weather, also give a degree of softness to the rugged pile. The greatest curiosity I saw at Maum Tor was, the river issuing at the bottom of the rock; there is not the smallest space between the surface of the water and the solid rock. The breadth of this river, as it glides from the pile of rocks, may be, as far as I could judge by my eye, not less than forty feet; it issues perfectly level, and runs off in the small hollow to the village of Maum, from whence it flows on to Leeds, &c.; its banks, and the moor just around the Tor, are ornamented with scattered birch, and mountain ash trees. In advancing to Maum Tor, I found springs rising at almost every step I took. The river at Maum Tor is the Air, and has its source from a lake near Penegent Hill; but how it gets under Maum Tor, I cannot tell. The carriage road down to the village of Maum is very bad for horses; it would be, for that reason, more advisable for those who travel with their own horses, to send them on the straight road to Skipton, 16 miles, and hire post-horses, ​which are used to the road, to take them round by Gordale.

At Skipton is a very neat inn, near the ancient castle of Skipton. This town is situated in a beautiful part of Craven. Between Skipton and Leeds the river Air winds lovely in the vale.

Wharfedale is well worth visiting, which you may do by going to Otley. You may then turn to the east, and take a view of Studley Park, Fountains Abbey, Hackfall, Harewood, Harrogate, York, &c.

My road lay from Skipton to Keighley, 10 miles; a charming drive through Craven, and very good road.

From Keighley to Halifax, 12 miles; a very bad road; hilly and dreary to a great degree.

Halifax is a large and dirty manufacturing town, most beautifully situated amongst mountains, woods, and rivers.

The Halifax innkeepers follow the example of their neighbours in Lancashire, and charge three-pence per mile more, for post-horses, than in the other parts of Yorkshire.

From Halifax to Rochdale, over Blackstone Edge (a ridge of mountains so called), 16 miles, ​of very hilly bad road. There is, I was told, a beautiful road, somewhat farther about, through some dale, and not over Blackstone Edge, that, if it had not been near winter, I should certainly have taken.

There are no very great beauties in Rochdale; and the town (most part of it) is very dirty, and the streets very narrow: but, from experience, I know some of the inhabitants to be very kind, hospitable, and truly friendly; and besides, the Rochdale women are in general handsome. Avoid passing through Rochdale on Mondays, it is market-day; and you may be detained in the street, without being able to pass through the crowd, for an hour or two.

From Rochdale to Manchester, 13 miles; a sad rough road of broken pavement.

Near Middleton, about half way from Rochdale to Manchester, on a hill to the left, is Sir Ashton Lever's, or rather what was his property.

To the right, nearer Manchester, is Lord Grey de Wilton's.

A mile short of Manchester, before the steep descent to the town, on the right, is Broughton, ​belonging to Colonel Cluese; the finest situation about Manchester.

My guide has already conducted travellers to Manchester; I therefore leave them to enjoy the inexhaustible fund of amusement their own reflections, on what they have seen and observed, must continually afford them.