FIRST VIEW OF DOVE DALE.

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the night before, on our way to Ashbourne. Here we rested, and took a short refreshment, previously to our proceeding to Dove Dale. Entering the house, we observed traces of blood on the threshold, and on a seat near the fire-place of the first apartment into which we were admitted. Farther on, in an unfrequented room, and half out of sight, lay the greater part of a man's dress, almost covered with stains of blood. felt an involuntary shuddering at the sight, but it was only a transient feeling; yet I confess that the figures we had observed as we passed the house the former evening, were for a moment associated with the bloody clothes. We learnt before we left the house, that the man who kept it had been cutting hay from a stack near his dwelling, and falling upon the knife, he had been wounded in a dreadful manner. Profuse bleeding ensued, and the appearances we had noticed were thus accounted for. Shortly we left the house, which, at this particular time, was literally a house of mourning, and passing along a good carriage-road descending into a valley near, that led us to the little village of Thorpe. Our path now lay through some open pastures, until winding round the northern side of Thorpe Cloud, we first beheld the translucid waters of the Dove playing and sparkling in the depths of the dale below. Here we paused in silent contemplation of the scene. The character of the first view of Dove Dale is simple grandeur: the hills swell boldly from both sides of the river, and their majestic summits are often hid amongst the clouds; the parts are few, and the outlines sweep gracefully into each other: yet here the dale exhibits only a small portion of its rich materials, and curiosity is rather excited than gratified. It was a fine morning when we first beheld the enchanting scenery of the river Dove, yet still the summit of Thorpe Cloud was sometimes obsc ired with vapour, or, in the phraseology of the place, the "mountain had its cap on." When we had reached the margin of the river, and were measuring with the eye the altitude of the hills that shape its course, we observed some sportsmen with their dogs ranging amongst the bushes on the steep acclivities on our right, and so far above us as to appear strangely diminutive in stature, and but the miniature representations of what they were. As we passed along the dale, the report of their guns occasionally rung in loud discord among the rocks, interrupting the solitude of the place, and destroying the peculiar tone of feeling which it is eminently calculated to excite.

Y

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CHARACTER OF THE RIVER DOVE.

The river Dove is one of the most beautiful streams that ever gave a charm to landscape; and while passing along the first and least picturesque division of the dale, the ear was soothed with its murmurings, and the eye delighted with the brilliancy of its waters: in some places it flows smoothly and solemnly along, but never slowly; in others, its motion is rapid, impetuous, and even turbulent. The ash, the hazle, the slender osier, and the graceful birch, hung with honeysuckles and wild roses, dip their pensile branches in the stream, and break its surface into beauteous ripples. Huge fragments of stone, toppled from the rocks above, and partly covered with moss and plants that haunt and love the water, divide the stream into many currents; round these it bubbles in limpid rills, that circle into innumerable eddies, which, by their activity, give life and motion to a numerous variety of aquatic plants and flowers that grow in the bed of the river : these wave their slender stems under the surface of the water, which, flowing over them, like the transparent varnish of a picture, brings forth the most vivid colouring. Occasionally large stones are thrown across the stream, and interrupt its progress: over and amongst these it rushes rapidly into the pool below, forming in its frequent falls a series of fairy cascades, about which it foams and sparkles with a beauty and brilliancy peculiar to this lively and romantic river.

At the extremity of what I have here denominated the first division of the dale, the path leaves the margin of the Dove, and crosses a rocky knoll of considerable eminence. From this elevated situation a new picture is presented: the rocks have here a character peculiarly their own. On the left, they shoot their spiral heads from amongst a grove of thickest wood, or rise in insulated masses over the tops of the trees: on the right, they are connected at their base, and their summits are split into huge cones and shattered pinnacles.

Descending from our elevation, and following the path by the side of the river, we came to a curious assemblage of broken rocks, closely united together below, but above indented with deep fissures, and divided into pyramidal terminations, which collectively are denominated DOVE DALE CHURCH. This fantastic resemblance of a dilapidated structure is finely situated at the base of an immense hill of wood, whose lofty summit is adorned with overhanging crags. The foliage of the trees is here of the most luxuriant description, and the river sparkles with the vivid reflections of the many pic

DOVE DALE CHURCH.

REYNARD'S CAVE.

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turesque objects on its banks. This is one of the richest parts. of Dove Dale for the pencil of the artist, and Glover has made it the subject of one of his best pictures: he has given an accurate transcript of the features of the scene in all its parts; the local colouring is true to nature; and he has imparted to his representation of this portion of Dove Dale an appearance of magnitude, and a character of grandeur, which give all but reality to the scene he has depicted.

The graphic illustrations that have hitherto been published of this romantic dale, give but a very imperfect idea of the scenery it contains. Gilpin's, I presume, was made from recollection: rocks, woods, and a river, he remembered to have seen, and when at leisure in his study he combined them as best suited his fancy. The fact is, he painted much better with his pen than with his pencil. Dayes was more accurate. The view which he has given, in his Northern Excursion, of the first entrance into the dale, is correct in all its forms; but the effect is far from imposing: the whole is muddy, and an idea of littleness rather than magnitude is excited. Farringdon, in his Derbyshire Depicta, is still more faulty; he has not given the character accurately of any scene or object in the dale. This is taking a liberty with nature on the one hand, and with the public on the other, utterly unwarrantable both in art and morals.

About two hundred yards beyond Dove Dale Church, on the contrary side of the river, is Reynard's Cave, one of the most extraordinary and curious specimens of rock-scenery in any part of Derbyshire. This cave consists of a stupendous rib of rock, which is partly detached from the general mass, and excavated into a magnificent natural arch, regularly formed, and of great extent; an open court is seen beyond, and in distance the entrance into an interior cavern appears. The rocks near this arch are adorned with ivy, and so formed and connected together as to present to an active imagination the rude resemblance of some mighty castle, and the fit abode of those fabled beings whom one of the greatest favourites of the nursery knew so well how to tame and subdue.

In Ashbourne church-yard there is a tomb-stone, inscribed to the memory of an Irish divine, the Rev. Mr. Langton, dean of Clogher, who lost his life near the entrance into Reynard's Cave. A party of ladies and gentlemen were spending the day in Dove Dale: the dean with difficulty had brought his horse thus far, and, with an unaccountable temerity, he pro

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UNFORTUNATE OCCURRENCE.

posed to ascend the hills, and scale the most accessible parts of the rocks on horseback. A young lady, a Miss La Roche, with more courage than prudence, requested permission to accompany him in his rash attempt: she mounted behind him they clambered the hill to a fearful height, while their companions below were shuddering at their danger, and gazing upon them with an anxiety intense even to pain. At length, the horse, unable to find secure footing, tottered under his burden, stumbled, fell, and rolled headlong down the steep. The dean was precipitated to the bottom of the dale: life had not departed when he was taken up, but he expired shortly afterwards. Miss La Roche was more fortunate; she was slightly hurt, and rendered insensible with the fall, but she ultimately recovered to lament the dreadful consequences of an adventure in which she had so unthinkingly participated. Near this fatal spot we sat down to sketch the scenery in this part of the dale. From the situation we occupied we had a fine view of the narrow part of Dove Dale. We looked into the deep ravine of rock before us. The sun was high in the heavens, but his rays were excluded from all the lower parts of the dell. A broad mass of light gleamed upon the higher rocks on the right of the pass; the left lay in deep shadow. One side was bare, save where a solitary bough or two of ash or yew shot from a fissure, where they had found a scanty soil and stinted nurture: the other was covered with trees of various and graceful foliage. The light played amongst the branches that crested the summit; but below, the blackness of shadow filled up the chasm, and dark flowed the river from the narrow pass. We were sufficiently elevated to obtain the sight of a lovely landscape beyond this vale of rocks, that diversified and improved the composition. Sometimes the light fell softly on the remote hills, while nearer us the topmost cliffs were bathed in sunny splendour, which, by the force of opposition, deepened the effect of a mass of shade in the mid-distance of the landscape. The day was peculiarly favourable for picturesque effects. At intervals the sky was obscured by clouds, which dispersing, admitted a flood of light, that brightly illumined all around; others succeeded, and occasionally threw the whole scene into gloom; but the finest effects were produced, when, through partial openings in the clouds, the concentrated rays of the sun darted in brilliant lines of light, and for a moment lit up the rocky summits of Dove Dale; while every object

SCENE IN DOVE Dale.

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around them was enveloped in obscurity. The splendour with which they were occasionally touched was at times so intensely bright that they looked like turrets of fire, lifting their illuminated peaks out of the clouds that rolled about them. I wished to have seen this imposing picture an hour or two nearer sunset; at which peculiar time it would have realised one of Sir Walter Scott's most beautiful descriptions in the Lady of the Lake:

About two hundred yards beyond Reynard's Cave is the termination of the second grand division of Dove Dale. Here the narrow pass commences, affording only a passage for the troubled waters of the Dove, and on the Derbyshire side of the stream a very scanty pathway beneath the rocks: the opposite bank is totally impassable. Here the river, as if impatient at being restrained within the limits of this contracted chasm, rushes with great impetuosity to a more open part of the dale, when its turbulence subsides, and it becomes again a placid, but a rapid stream. Sometimes the river occupies the whole space between the rocks; at others, the traveller has occasionally to step from one huge stone to another, to avoid the water that passes between. Through this upper division of the dale, the rocks rise in perpendicular masses on both sides of the river. In some places, imposing precipices frown over the path below, inspiring emotions of awe and terror. Beneath these we passed in silence, as if we feared our voices would disturb the firm-fixed rock above, and bring the incumbent mass, like a tremendous avalanche, upon our heads. This, though not the most beautiful, is certainly the most terrific part of Dove Dale. The three divisions which I have noticed are dissimilar in form and feature, yet the same general character pervades the whole.