296 RUINS OF EASTWOOD HALL. was knighted by Edward the Third, at Marleur in Brittany,) adorn the interior of this edifice. One of the Babington tombs is curiously ornamented; and, agreeably to the notions of taste that once directed the execution of the monumental sculpture of our churches, the different figures are painted with gaudy colouring, which has now lost its freshness, and has altogether a very dingy appearance. Against the northern wall, near the west end of the church, there is a monument to the memory of an artist, of whose fame we had never heard before:-"To Francis Parkes, a wonderful proficient in the art of painting, who died at Nottingham, aged 39; was born at Knott Cross in this parish." Such is the inscription which this unobtrusive tablet contains. I was pleased to meet, in this remote corner of Derbyshire, even this brief notice of a man of genius; for I would at any time rather see the word talent than birth recorded on a tomb-stone. Near this memorial stands an old stone font, which is supposed to be of Saxon origin. It is not only an ancient but a curious relique; the body of it is partly circular and partly hexagonal, and it is ornamented with a variety of figures, clothed in loose flowing drapery, and disposed in different compartments, cast in metal. It was evening when we arrived at Ashover, and having caught a glimpse of a ruined edifice in the valley beyond the village as we descended the hill, we were anxious 'to visit it before we closed the labours of the day. This gloomy building stands at the foot of a high hill, covered with huge masses of sand-stone rock, and crested with a dark wood of pines. The structure, the scenery near, and the time of the day, for it was now twilight, were in solemn accordance with each other, and produced a train of serious reflections on the instability of all human productions; while the indistinctness that pervaded the landscape, together with the profound stillness that prevailed, imparted to the whole scene not only an imposing but even a sublime effect. Had we beheld this ruin at another time of the day, when "The sun is in the heavens, and the proud day, SHAKSPEARE. it would have been only a speck in the prospect that surrounds it; every object in the valley would then have been rendered CATHERINE STRANGE. 297 distinct with excess of light, and the pine-crowned rock, which was now invested with grandeur, would become but a subordinate feature. It is not a pleasing assemblage of beautiful parts in the scenery of nature, nor yet the time of the day, nor the peculiar circumstances of light or shadow under which it is beheld, that alone powerfully impresses the mind, and excites the most interesting emotions; recollections and associations unsolicited and often arbitrary in their operations, will sometimes make a little mound of earth, or a barrow on a barren hill, when the idea of sepulture is connected with them, of more importance to the feelings than mere picturesque beauty can possibly be. A cross by the road-side, to mark the place where a fellow-creature died, or a cairn of rugged stones heaped over the bodies of the dead, are beheld with far greater interest than rocks, and trees, and fields, and houses. The old edifice near Ashover is called Eastwood Hall, and a modern dwelling is now attached to the shattered walls that are left. It was once a structure of some importance, as its remaining windows and massy masonry denote. At a very early period, and probably soon after its first erection, it belonged to a family of the name of Reresby, in whose possession it remained until the reign of James the First, when Sir Thomas Reresby disposed of the manor which appertained to Eastwood Hall, that he might more amply provide for his two daughters. It is now vested in the widow and children of Mr. John Nodder. In 1762 the hall was sold to the governors of Queen Anne's bounty, for the purpose of augmenting the clerical stipend of the chapel of Brimington, near Chesterfield. Amongst the most distinguished individuals who have at any time been connected with the parish of Ashover, was Catharine Strange, who in the reign of Elizabeth was married to Richard Ďakeyne, Esq., of Over Stubbing. She was the daughter of the Earl of Rothes, and a great favourite with the unfortunate Mary Queen of Scots, to whom she was sincerely and warmly attached. With a fervour of friendship of which the female character is peculiarly susceptible, she softened by her attention the sorrows of her royal mistress whilst she was in confinement, and when the last sad scene of her life was closing in death, she accompanied her to the scaffold. One of the afflictions that pressed most heavily upon the last moments of Mary, arose from her inability to reward her attendants for the numerous offices of kindness, 298 CATHARINE STRANGE. and the many proofs of attachment, she had experienced front them. Whatever were her faults in other respects, she was a tender and affectionate mistress, and never forgot the hand that served her; and one of her last requests to Elizabeth was, that she would be the friend of Catherine Strange. SECTION IV. - Overton Hall.-Sir Joseph Banks.-South Winfield.-The Manor House.-Description of the Ruins.-Reflections on their present appearance.-Siege of the Manor House. Crich.-Friendly Societies.-Whit-Monday in Derbyshire. -Walk from Crich to Cromford.-Lea Wood.-Dethick.Historical Notice of Babington. WHEN We left Ashover, on the third morning of our rambles, preparations were making for a day of festivity. It was Whit-Monday, and the whole population of the village were busy as bees in preparing for the holiday. The thoughts of work were entirely abandoned, excepting amongst those who were the purveyors of good cheer for the public. The bellows of the smith were unemployed in the corner of his shop, and no fire blazed on his hearth: he was leaning against the shop-door with his brawny arms folded, and a group of idlers were collected around him, who evidently thought less of labour than enjoyment. All the public-houses in the village were preparing entertainments for their guests, who had put on their best apparel in honour of Whit-Monday, and their good-humoured faces and frolic spirits, showed that they were determined to make the most of this annual festival. The morning of such a day is often far better than its close, which is occasionally disfigured by quarrelsome dispositions, and stained with riot and intemperance. Proceeding along the Mansfield road, a walk of about a mile brought us to Overton, a little village, that interested us more from the associations connected with it, than from any picturesque qualities it possesses: yet of these it is not deficient. An old mansion, surrounded with magnificent trees and lofty mountains, at the base of which some humble cottages are scattered, when viewed in connexion with each other, present a pleasing combination of forms and objects. Overton Hall was the property, and occasionally the residence, of Sir 300 RUINS OF SOUTH WINFIELD MANOR HOUSE. Joseph Banks, the late venerable president of the Royal Society. From the elevated situation this distinguished individual held, both in science and literature, and the space he occupied in the estimation of the public, I frankly confess that so long as he was sojourning amongst us, I could neither pass his house in London in Soho-Square, or his residence at Överton, without a feeling of veneration for his character. Two miles from Ashover we came upon the river Amber, near a small place called Wolley. The scenery here is beautifully picturesque: the hills are of considerable eminence, and well wooded, and the vale between is adorned with richly cultivated meadows, and a sparkling stream. Our principal object in this excursion was South Winfield, and the venerable ruins of the old manor near it. We therefore left the Mansfield road near Wolley, and for the purpose of shortening our journey some "mile or twain," we took a bye-path across the fields, and through some woods to Brackenfield and Wessington. We were told it was impossible to mistake our way, and we walked on with confidence until we found our progress impeded by high hedges and a close thicket, through which we could not pass. Notwithstanding the assurance we had received, we had pursued a wrong path, that terminated amongst the fields between Wessington and South Winfield, and had some difficulty in regaining the road from which we had departed, even though we saw the object of our journey at a short distance, on an eminence before us. At length we reached the place, and, having taken a short repast at a small public-house near the church, we proceeded immediately to the ruins of the manor castle. They occupy the summit of a steep hill, which appears to have been moated on three sides. The first view from the village of this dilapidated structure displays a fine assemblage of parts: mouldering towers, ruined arches, amongst which the dark ivy creeps, embattled parapets, and shattered walls, are seen rising above, and mingled with groves of venerable trees centuries older than the present building; the whole constituting not merely a beautiful but magnificent picture. We passed along the western front of this ancient edifice, and entered its deserted courts near the principal tower. It is sickening to contemplate such a scene of change and devastation as the interior view presents. From without the walls, the ruins, as I have before observed, have a most majestic effect: time has broken them into picturesque forms; the heart is interested, and the |