86 COMPARISON WITH LOCH KATRINE. in a regularly curved line, at the distance of from one to two hundred paces, forming a magnificent natural crescent. These rocks beetle over their base; so far they are unadorned: their upper strata are covered with wood, which happily combines with the scenery of which it forms so beautiful a part. Almost every circumstance, even the most minute, in the following extract from Sir Walter Scott's description of Loch Katrine, is peculiarly applicable to Chee-dale. "Here eglantine embalm'd the air, 66 Fox-glove and night-shade side by side, "Emblems of punishment and pride, Grouped their dark hues with every stain "The weather-beaten crags retain. "With boughs that quaked at every breath, Grey birch and aspen wept beneath; "Aloft the ash, and warrior oak "Cast anchor in the rifted rock, "And higher yet the pine-tree hung "His shattered trunk, and frequent flung, SECTION II. Observations on the river Wye.-Blackwell Mill. - Topley Pike. -Stage-coach. Wye Dale. - Romantic Dell and Cascade near Lover's Leap. Arrival at Buxton. THE upper part of the confined dell, which is dignified with the stately presence of Chee Tor, is extremely contracted. The rocks rise high and precipitately from both sides of the river, which they here form into a narrow channel, and the traveller, who is not disposed to wade through the shallows of the stream, must necessarily return by the path he came. In a long dry season, the Wye is but a scanty rivulet; it may then be crossed with little difficulty; at other times its passage is almost impracticable. Few individuals indeed ever attempt to penetrate beyond this part of Chee-dale. From this place to Blackwell-Mill, about a mile higher up the river, many beautiful scenes occur, all differing in detail, but everywhere exhibiting the same general character. A brilliant and rapid stream sometimes winding round the huge fragments of stone that form its channel, then curling and circling into a thousand eddies- sometimes leaping precipitously from one bold shelving of rock to another, and breaking into the whitest foam; then gliding smoothly though rapidly along, until another obstruction to its peaceful and unruffled progress produces the recurrence of a similar picture. Such is the river Wye in this sequestered place: its banks are everywhere composed of a continued chain of perpendicular rocks of a greater or lesser altitude, which in some places are naked and unadorned, and in others finely covered with foliage. It may easily be imagined, that these materials must, occasionally if not frequently, be so thrown together and combined as to produce pleasing compositions. I have only once crossed the river from the upper extremity of Chee-dale, which I did with the intention of perambulating its banks from thence to Buxton: when this can be accomplished, it must several times be forded from one side to the 88 PICTURESQUE SCENE ON THE WYE. other: indeed the channel of the stream, when occasions are taken of thus threading its course, is almost the only path that can be pursued without apprehension, as the sides and summits of the rocks are precipitous and craggy, and in many places even dangerous to pass. My companion was equally anxious with myself to explore this hidden part of the Wye: we therefore, after passing the stream at the top of Chee-dale, wound our way up and down the steep acclivities, as a narrow and devious path-way led us, amongst bushes and brambles, until we came by a rugged and abrupt descent to a more open situation on the brink of the river. The scene here presented is one of the finest of its kind I ever beheld. A high rock, richly crested with oak and ash, occupies each side of the Wye. The branches of the trees throw themselves across the chasm, and produce a mass of shadow, deep, broad, and sombre: below, a smooth bed of water sleeps in unbroken tranquillity; beyond, seen through the rocky vista, the luxuriant foliage caught a stream of light, and all the upper and remoter parts of the scene were brightly illumined with the warm effulgence of a declining sun, which, contrasted with opposing shadows, produced an effect that would have delighted a Rembrandt. The rock under which we stood, and the whole foreground of the picture, were finely broken: huge fragments of stone had been detached from above, and interrupted the progress of the stream, as it flowed and babbled along the water, occasionally runs nearly over them, and had left behind an earthy sediment, that nurtured the richly-coloured mosses with which they were invested: water docks, fern, and fox-glove, mingled their variety of leaf and tint to adorn and diversify this beauteous landscape: all the forms were fine, the colouring rich and harmonious, and the light and shadow most happily disposed. It was one of those fascinating scenes which memory treasures, and recurs to with delight. Leaving this retired spot, we again recrossed the river along the cragged sides of which we clambered with some interruptions, until we had attained the summit of the highest rock. Over this we had to pass or recede. The gulf that yawned below could not be contemplated without emotions of horror. We stood on a steep shelving bank, covered with a thin slippery grass, unsafe, and even dangerous to tread upon. A sheep track was the only path that lay before us, and this was carried so near the brink of the precipice, that I could not have beheld a goat or any thing that had life placed in so perilous a TOPLEY PIKE. 89 situation, without trembling. We were now nearly four hundred feet above the little stream that washed the base of the rock where we stood, and a glimpse into the fearful depth below was appalling and terrific. We paused for a moment our nerves were shaken and unstrung: my companion, who fully shared in my feelings, hesitated then refused to proceed another step: we therefore retraced our way back to near Wormhill, and crossed the fields by a solitary path, which led us to the brow of a lofty eminence that overlooks BlackwellMill. From this elevated situation we descended by a winding and narrow road, until we had regained the margin of the Wye. At Blackwell-Mill, where the river is spread out into considerable breadth, the dale expands and assumes a different character. Here the rocky scenery of the Wye subsides, and a series of deep dales succeeds, which are formed by high, sloping hills, thinly covered with verdure, and in some places crested with craggy knolls, and broken rock. Within the hollow of the lofty eminences that here prescribe the course of the river, lies Blackwell-Mill. Topley Pike, broad at its base, and lifting high its pointed summit o'er all surrounding objects, is here a giant feature in the landscape. Along the side of this vast hill, the new road from Bakewell to Buxton has been carried: one would almost wonder at so bold an attempt, but what cannot the talent, the daring, and the perseverance of man achieve? While I was in the dale below, contemplating the steep acclivity of Topley Pike, I was startled from my reverie by the sound of a coachman's horn, that came gently upon the ear, when I was least prepared to expect such a greeting. Shortly, a stage-coach appeared, which seemed actually to issue from the clouds that obscured the higher elevations of this stupendous hill; and I observed it pass rapidly along, where the eye could scarcely discern the trace of a road, and where to all appearance a human foot could with difficulty find a restingplace. Had I supposed this vehicle to have contained within it beings like myself, I might have shuddered with apprehension, but the coach, from its great height above me, looked so like a child's toy, and the sound of the horn was so soft and unobtrusive - so unlike the loud blast of a stage-coachman's bugle and altogether the place was so unfitted for the intrusion of such an object, that it appeared more like a fairy 90 NEW ROAD TO BUXTON. scene, or a picture of imagination, than any thing real and substantial. From the foot of Topley Pike the road passes by the side of the Wye, through some beautiful scenery to Buxton. Within about two miles of this fashionable bathing-place the dale again contracts, and becomes a narrow passage through a cleft of rock, singularly romantic. The Wye is here extremely beautiful: its lucid stream is sometimes pent up with fragments of rock that oppose its passage; then breaking the bounds of its confinement, it foams and bubbles down its rugged bed until another interruption occurs to dam up the current. It now dashes against the mound by which it is, opposed; repelled by the obstruction it encounters, it circles into revolving eddies, that apparently retire under a shelving rock, until again it returns into the channel; then with an accumulated force it leaps the barrier, and bounds rapidly away. However fanciful, and perhaps even fantastic, this may be, I know not how otherwise to describe the impressions made upon my mind, as I watched the play, the spirit, and the progress of this secluded stream. The deep ravine through which the Wye thus sports is rich in picturesque materials, and at the "witching hour of even,' the perpendicular rocks on the right of the road, split and broken into columns, and surmounted with bold and rugged battlements, gleam with the soft light of departing day: the opposite side is dark with shadow, that envelopes all the lower part of the glen, which gradually becoming deeper and deeper as the night advances, gives an additional clearness and a more brilliant sparkle to the busy babbling Wye. In this contracted dell I again observed my favourite tree the ash; - its graceful branches mingled with the varied foliage of the elm, the hazel, and the yew: sometimes they shoot from a cleft or fissure in the rock sometimes they play at its base, where they bend and dip their light stems in the stream they adorn. Near that part of the rock denominated the LOVER'S LEAP, a little dell opens its craggy portals to the road. In winter a more picturesque place can hardly be found; and in summer, when a heavy shower of rain has swollen the mountain streams and filled their channels, a scanty rill, called Shirbrook, which takes its rise near the Ashbourne Road, about half a mile from Buxton, becomes in its progress a rapid and impetuous torrent; passing between Staden's Low and the Duke's Ride, it enters a rocky glen near the Lover's Leap, where, dashing |