# A tour through the northern counties of England, and the borders of Scotland/Volume 1, Letter 3

| ​ LETTER III. TO THE SAME. DEAR SIR,Bedale, June 15th IT was V.'s observation, on leaving Castleton, that Nature must have had the 'Blue Devils,' when she formed the country in this neighbourhood. The remark, indeed, seemed highly appropriate to the road between Castleton and Sheffield; than which nothing can be conceived ​more dreary, rude, and forlorn, for twelve mile out of the sixteen. The little village of Hathersage, dropped in the centre of a broad bottom formed by the mountains rising around it, contrasts agreeably with their barren summits and dark declivities; and offers the first dawnings of the hardware trade to which we were approaching, in a little manufactory of buttons. This scene of life and business is, however, succeeded by a tract of moor in the true style of the Salvator Rosa scenery; the line of the horizon being broken by black rocky crags, which frown over the subjacent waste, and assume the appearance of enormous castellated ruins. But this sterility and desolation only prepare the traveller the better for the rich and fertile picture presently to be presented to his eye, when climbing a hill about five miles from Sheffield, he throws his delighted vision over the southern part of Yorkshire, and takes in an unbounded expanse of country covered with towns, villages, manufactories, and handsome human habitations. Proceeding four miles through this region, which seemed to Have burst upon us preternaturally, we reached Sheffield, a large town situated near the borders of Derbyshire, on a gentle rise, at the confluence of the rivers Sheaf and Don. This place, you know, has long been famous for the ​manufactory of knives, razors, scissars, files, and other articles made from steel; as well as buttons and silver plated goods; a trade, however, which does not appear to be attended with any considerable benefit to those engaged in it, as few individuals in this place amass large fortunes. The town, vast as it is, (containing 22888 males, and 22807 females) is not represented in parliament; its corporation only relates to the manufactory, and is called the Company of Cutlers of Hallamshire, in which it stands. The incorporation took place in 1625, and was extended, and new privileges granted to it, in 1791. Its concerns are regulated by a master, elected every year on the last Thursday in August, two wardens, six searchers, and twenty-four assistants. The hardware manufactures appear to have commenced here as early as the thirteenth century, when military weapons were made in great abundance. Less destructive instruments, the implements of industry, became the object of the townsmen in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. In the year 1600, we find iron tobacco-boxes and Jews'-harps the chief articles of trade here. Thirty years afterwards the knife-manufactory started up; in 1638, files and razors made their appearance; but it was not till a century afterwards, that a communication being opened between this place and ​the continent, the trade of Sheffield began to assume any thing like the importance it at present wears. Since then both it and population have been increasing considerably; though not in the same proportion with Birmingham, its rival sister. The knife-manufactory of Messrs. Noel and Kippax gratified us in a very interesting way. Here upwards of ninety people are employed in forming those useful instruments, from the rude bar iron to the beautiful and complicated article which costs seven or eight guineas, and contains twenty-eight different pieces within the handle. Some, indeed, are not of so high a value, as we were shewn specimens of knives, which, having passed through sixty different hands, from the ore to the last polishing, sold afterwards at the rate of twopence halfpenny each. Five hundred different patterns of knives are made at this manufactory, and taken off by the London, East-Indian, and American markets. Almost all the people employed work by the piece, and earn, if industrious, about four, shillings per day. The tin-plate manufactory was too curious to be passed over in neglect. Messrs. Goodman, Gainsford, and Co. are proprietors of the most considerable one in Sheffield. Here those beautiful articles are prepared, which vie with silver in lustre ​and appearance; urns, tureens, salvers, candlesticks, stands, and the thousand other ornaments of the dining and tea-tables, and side-board. The articles themselves are of copper, which being received by the workmen in oblong ingots, a mass of silver exactly fitting it is placed upon each ingot, soldered together with borax and certain other materials, and then passed between two cylindrical rollers of immense power, which reduce the mass to the necessary thickness. The plate is then fit for working, and receives the desired form by the action of a prodigious weight of lead driven down upon it by a machine, which impresses it into a mould beneath of the pattern required. One or more strokes are used, according to the nature of the pattern, whether shallow or deep. If the article be of a complicated form, the different parts are made distinct, and afterwards soldered together. They are then trimmed up, and finely burnished by women, with little instruments headed with flint and horn. The earnings even of this branch are about fifteen shillings per week, if the ladies be industrious; but those^of the other branches much higher. The foreign trade is to the East-Indies, America, Levant, Germany, and France. Crossing the Don, we quitted Sheffield, and rode for six miles through a country which conveyed a ​lively idea of the operations of a hive of bees in the busy hours of spring, as described by Virgil: "Qualis apes aestate nova per florea rura Exercet sub sole labor, cum gentis adultos Educunt Faetus; aut cum liquentia mella Stipant, & dulci distendunt nectare cellas, Aut onera accipiunt veniendum agmine facto, Ignavum fucos pecus a praesepibus arcent; Fervet opus." All is animated industry; iron-works and coal-pits on each side the road, and thickly peopled villages all around. This scene continued to Rotherham, a town situated at the point where the river Rother falls into the Don; and contains (according to the last returns made in consequence of Mr. Abbot's Bill) 1448 males, and 1622 females. It has a great market for fat cattle and sheep, held there every fortnight; from which the populous country of Manchester and its neighbourhood derive a considerable part of their supplies. The soil about Rotherham is of different sorts; partly being what is termed by the farmers red-land, (which is a light earth mixed with the sand of the red freestone of the country) and partly land of a stronger and heavier quality; most of it well adapted for the growth of corn, and in a high state of cultivation. The under strata, after passing through the stone, abound with iron and coal. Of the ​latter product there are a number of veins of different thicknesses, from a few inches to seven feet, adapted to different purposes. Some are hard, and calculated to bear the blast of the iron manufacturer; whilst others are better fitted for the cheerful blaze of the domestic fire. Masbrough, which is separated from Rotherham only by the bridge, contains 1658 males, and 1668 females, a great proportion of whom are employed in and about the ironworks. Here are those of Messrs. Walker, where most of the articles made either of cast or wrought iron are manufactured, from the iron-bridge down to the Dutch hoe. Those of smaller and more delicate workmanship in steel are almost exclusively the produce of the neighbouring town of Sheffield. The following account of the processes in casting and turning cannon, cannon-balls, &c. may perhaps interest you: To prepare the iron-stone for the furnace, it is first baked in the open air in large heaps, in order to dry it, and to deprive it as much as possible of its sulphur and arsenic; which would be prejudicial to the quality of the metal; the coal is also burnt into coke, or charred. These are then thrown mingled together into the furnace, with common limestone to act as a flux, and some of a superior kind of iron ore brought from ​Cumberland, in various proportions, according to the quality required in the iron, and the uses it is destined to. A strong blast is then applied to the furnace, and as the iron melts, it falls down into the bottom of the furnace, which is paved with large blocks of freestone, and the mouth walled up with bricks and clay. When it is ready for casting, a hole is made with an iron crow, and the molten metal suffered to run into the proper mould along channels of sand laid upon the ground; but where smaller articles are wanted, the iron is run out of the larger furnaces into a small receiving furnace with an open door, whence it is lifted out in iron ladles covered with clay, to prevent fusion, and carried by the workmen to be poured into the moulds. To prepare the mould for the cannon, a wooden model is turned exactly of the size and shape required, and cut in several pieces, and the moulds in which it is to be cast are made of iron, in short pieces; but, except that in which the breech of the cannon is cast, they are all divided down the middle so as to close round the model, leaving a space for sand to be put in betwixt the moulds and the model. That part which represents the breech of the cannon, is first placed upon a bed of sand contained in an iron vessel like a pan, and in order to form the iron loop attached to that part of the gun, ​a piece of wood, representing the outside of that loop, is put in, and sand beaten closely and firmly round every part of the model; the piece of wood is then removed, and a round piece made of sand and clay, representing the cavity of the loop, is put in, which remains. The sand is beaten down hard with wooden rammers, and when that piece of the model is taken away, it is finished with small trowels by the hand, to prevent any flaws by any particles of sand which may have fallen in. Other pieces of the model are preparing at the same time, and the moulds fastened round them, and the spaces betwixt them filled up with sand rammed close in like manner, till it is even with the upper surface. The pieces of the model are then taken out, and the moulds put together without them; and the moulds, in order to secure them and prevent any possibility of their not fitting each other, have flat rims corresponding, from one of which are projecting staples, passing through holes in that which comes opposite, and fastened by iron wedges. Every part is carefully examined by the workmen, and any defects repaired by them with their trowels. The whole apparatus is now conveyed into a large oven, where it remains till the sand and mould are all compleatly dry; it is then taken out, and by means of very strong tackle ​let down into a round pit sunk in the ground; different channels for the melted iron being directed towards this pit, and communicated across it to the top of the mould by iron troughs, fortified with sand and clay. The iron is then let out of the furnaces, and runs along the ground in these different channels, emitting in its passage brilliant sparks like stars. Upon this occasion a great number of the Cyclopes attend with shovels, to stop the passage of the iron where it comes too fast, as well as to prevent any great quantity of dross from making its way into the mould. The splendid streams of melted fluid, with the burning light they throw on the number of workmen assembled round the spot, contrasted with the darkness of the place, and the occasional cries of the workmen when they pass the signals to stop or open the distant furnaces, together with the roaring of the metal as it falls into the mould, form altogether a terrific scene; and would be an admirable subject for a painter. Care is taken to leave a sufficient space at the top of the mould to receive the dross and such other substances as swim upon the surface, which are afterwards cut off. The whole remains in the pit for several hours, that the iron may set; it is then taken out, the surrounding frame taken to pieces, and as soon as the workmen ​can bear the heat, the sand, &c. which adheres to the cannon is beaten off with large hammers, and it remains for at least twenty-four hours before it is cool. The cannon, being now entirely solid, is taken away to be bored and finished. In order to perform this, its breech is fastened to the axis of a water-wheel, which, by means of a regulating shuttle, turns the cannon with such velocity as the workman requires. It runs upon a fixed frame; and after the muzzle is cut to the proper length, (which is done by applying to it a sharp cubical piece of steel, forced against it by means of a lever) the borer is applied. This borer is a long iron rod, or rather beam, shod with sharp pieces of hard steel, and fastened to a moveable carriage, which runs upon small wheels in grooves exactly parallel with the proposed bore of the gun; and by means of a horizontal rack on each side, passing through a hole (or rather a long box) in the fixed frame to receive it, and which has a small wheel with teeth or cogs corresponding with those of the rack, and a long lever applied to its axis, the borer with its carriage is pressed against the gun with a force answering to the weight which is applied to the end of the lever acting by means of its cog-wheel upon the rack. The cannon all this time turning ​round, the borer forms the bore of the gun, which complains loudly of this treatment; for it makes a screaming noise, that may be sometimes heard to the distance of two miles. During this operation of boring, the workman turns and finishes the outside of the gun, by sharp-edged pieces of steel applied to its sides; and the ornamental parts of it, cyphers, or crown, with the projecting part which holds the priming, are done by the hand with a hammer and chissel; the touch-hole is then drilled, and the gun compleated. An eighteen-pounder, nine feet long, when compleat, without its carriage, weighs 42oolbs.; one of eight feet, two tons; a twenty-four pounder 5000lbs.; and a thirty-two pounder 5500lbs. weight. The method of casting cannon-balls is as follows: two pieces of iron, like two basons, are placed upon each other, with a groove turned in the lower, so that the upper fits upon it. Hie inside of each is turned, and hollowed like a half-sphere, so as to fit exactly; and in tlus operation great nicety is required. In the centre of one of these pieces a hole is bored, to admit the melted iron, and nothing more is required than to place these pieces upon each other, dusting them with a little powdered charcoal or black lead, and then to pour the melted metal into the hole till it is full. ​Besides the large blast-furnaces, there are a great number of smaller air-furnaces, in which the old iron is re-melted. These are constructed in the form of great chests, but contracted towards the middle, where the iron is put, and then widening out again to the chimney, which is built at a great height, for the sake of the draught. At the part of the furnace which is farthest from the chimney, the coals are put through a small door; and the air forcing its way through the fire, to get up the chimney, is contracted into a focus upon the narrower part of the furnace where the iron is put, and effects a compleat fusion in about three hours. These furnaces are built with fire-bricks, with a bed of sand for the melted metal; and in this operation the coals are put in as they come out of the pit. In these stupendous works we saw models of some iron bridges which had been already made, and parts of others now manufacturing. The first iron bridge, upon the principle of the celebrated Thomas Paine, (the inventor) was cast at Messrs. Walker's works, under his own inspection; but although it answered to a certain degree, it was deficient in strength. This defect has been since remedied in the iron bridges that have been cast here, of which that at Sunderland is the most famous; and there is one now in hand for the river ​Thames at Staines, upon a construction apparently superior to any hitherto cast. Indeed no doubt remains, that these iron bridges will supersede those of stone entirely; as they are put up with a fifth part of the expence, a tenth part of the time, and will be found to be equally, if not more, durable. There is also belonging to Messrs. Walker a considerable manufactory for tinning iron plates, which are first drawn out 'to the requisite thickness by cylindrical rollers, and afterwards cut to the size required, and cleaned with a strong acid solution. They are then dipped into the tin, which is melted in a proper receiver, with a quantity of grease and resin on its surface, to prevent its calcination by exposure to the air, and the plate comes out with the tin adhering to it; this is afterwards cleaned and rubbed with bran to take off the grease, and is then compleated for use. The conversion of iron into steel is also a considerable branch of the same manufactories. This is a simple process, by baking the hammered bars of iron in close ovens with charcoal for several days, till the carbo has completely penetrated the whole of the bar. In this operation the best and most malleable iron is used; and it seems as if this process only restored it nearly to its former state of cast-iron divested of its impurities; for as, in order ​to make the cast iron, malleable, it is necessary to refine it, to deprive it of its plumbago, carbo, and silicious substances, with which it is impregnated, (which is partly done in the reverberatory furnace, and partly under the forge-hammer)—so, in order to make it steel, it is necessary to restore a portion of what it was before deprived of; there seems, therefore, a great probability, that, in the advancement of the arts, a method will be discovered to make steel in the first instance out of the ore. This has, indeed, been already done to a certain degree, by Mr. Read, in a work near Whitehaven. It would be difficult to give you an idea of the wages of the workmen in these branches, they vary so much in consequence of superior skill, piece-work, or difference of employments. The labourers in husbandry around Rotherham earn about 2s. a day. The poor in general live comfortably, their situation being much ameliorated by the cheapness of fuel. This gives a surprising cheerfulness to the appearance of their cottages in a winter's evening, warmed and lighted by the blaze of an excellent fire, contributing at the same time to their health as well as enjoyment; a circumstance to which may be probably attributed the remarkable healthiness of the town and neighbourhood, and the almost total absence of epidemic disorders. ​Quitting Rotherham, we mounted the hill on the north of the town, and throwing our eye back on the track we had lately passed through, beheld a picture of such richness and variety as, perhaps, no other part of England can afford. Before us, also an extremely grand country disclosed itself, undulating into broad hills and wide vallies, whose boundless fertility is assisted by an admirable system of agriculture. The prospect terminated with the majestic woods of Wentworth-park, within whose embrace stands the gorgeous mansion of Earl Fitzwilliam, about four miles from Rothertham, and half a mile from the turnpike-road. Its front stretches upwards of six hundred feet in a strait line, and consists of a centre and two wings. The portico (which measures sixty feet in length by twenty in the projection) is ascended by a double flight of steps, and supported by eight pillars of the Corinthian order. The arms of the family ornament the tympanum, and the following motto, so appropriate to the inflexible integrity and uncorruptible political virtue of the late Marquis of Rockingham, runs along the entablature, Mea Gloria Fides. Our ciceroni led us into the house through the rustic story formed by a noble arcade, and a suite of rooms, in one of which is a very fine piece of ​modern statuary, consisting of three figures, by Foggini, Samson slaying two Philistines. It is of white marble, and approaches to life not only in size but in strength of expression: the accuracy of the anatomy, the grandness of the heads, and the force of the limbs, are not to be excelled. Ascending to the hall, we found ourselves in a room superlatively fine, from the grandeur of its dimensions, the justness of its proportions, the taste of its decorations, and the beauty of its contents. The architect has chosen the square figure, sixty feet everyway, relieved by an height of thirty-eight feet; and a gallery, which runs round the whole, and projects ten feet. Eighteen fluted pillars, of the Ionic order, support this member, of the beautiful composition called Scaleogni, crowned with capitals of white marble, and standing upon bases of the same, with squares of the verd antique. Eighteen Corinthian pilasters run from the gallery to the ceiling, which is laid out in compartments of stucco. Within the lower columns are eight niches, containing the following precious productions of the arts, in white marble:—A Flora, by Philip Valle.—Antinous, a naked figure, most beautiful, particularly the hair, by Cavacippi.—Germanicus, a naked figure, represented as declaiming, by Philip Valle; great expression in the face and ​hands.—Venus Callipega, by Maina; delicate and graceful, looking over her shoulder and holding the fine drapery of her garment above her right arm.—A Dancing Fawn, with the crotalos in his hand.—A ditto, with a fistula in his hand, and a goat over his shoulder.—A Venus de Medici.—An Apollo Vaticanus;—the four last admirable copies from the antique. At the upper end of the hall stands a Colossal statue of Ariadne, antique, with a thyrsus in her right hand; her left hand elevated; the drapery fine, but hair and face stiff. On one side are two good busts, copies, a dying Alexander, and a Julius Cæsar. A most agreeable effect is produced by the Cerulean blue of the Scaglioni composition, that lines the niches; which relieves, in a surprising manner, the glittering white marble of which these exquisite pieces of statuary are composed. The suite of apartments to the left of the hall from the grand entrance is The ante-room, thirty feet by twenty, where we find the following specimens of the arts: An antique Egyptian Isis, with the lotus in her hand, two feet and a half high ; the swelling of the muscles and contour of the body finely shewn through the drapery. It stands on a valuable table of inlaid marble.—A fine Claude, small.—George II. whole length, 1754, by Shackleton.—William Duke ​of Cumberland, by Sir Joshua Reynolds.—A Landscape, by Teniers. Vandyck drawing-room, fitted up in white and gold— Catherine of Braganza, sister to Don Alphonso King of Portugal, and wife to Charles II. Royal marriages are so generally matches of convenience and political management, that though we may lament, yet we are scarcely surprised to find them unproductive of that happiness usually sought for, and more frequently found, by their subjects in that state. But even this apology cannot be offered by the favourers of the fickle monarch, in extenuation of neglecl and contempt, which almost amounted to brutality, towards his consort; for in terms less harsh it is impossible to mention, that the names of more than one of his mistresses appear in the list of attendants appointed for the person of Catherine. During the war carried on by Cromwell against Spain, he had encouraged the Portuguese to revolt from the Catholic King, and entered into a treaty with them for that purpose. On the Restoration, they were desirous of renewing the alliance, and by way of giving additional strength to the connection, they proposed the Princess Catherine in marriage, with a portion of 300,0001. and the fortresses of Tanjore and Bombay. Spain, ​desirous of defeating this league, engaged to adopt any Princess of another house, and portion her equal to Portugal. Ministers were inclined to the last offer, but the king would not allow his own choice and fancy to be thwarted; and the acquisition of two such fortresses promised great accession of naval strength to England, which rendered the union more palateable to the nation. Thus was concluded, probably, as unhappy a marriage as ever was registered. Charles II. half-length, by Lely; one of the finest portraits that this artist ever painted. Thomas Earl of Strafford, and his Dog. Archbishop Laud, whole length, by Vandyck. This learned prelate was son of a clothier at Reading, and educated at St. John's College, Oxford, of which society he afterwards became president; from whence he was removed to the bishopric of St. David's, thence translated to Bath and Wells, and on the decease of Abbot, seated on the metropolitan throne of Canterbury. Being a bigotted admirer of religious forms and ceremonies, he was selected by Buckingham as the mast fit instrument to further the designs of Charles I. in the disputes between that king and his subjects; one of the early proofs of the superiority acquired by the Parliament was the commitment of this favourite ​minister to the Tower, by a vote of the two Houses, where he remained nearly four years; and was then brought forth to a trial of twenty days, which had been previously determined to end in execution; and he expiated all his errors on the scaffold 1644, Æt. 72 The royal pardon was pleaded, but rejected. Indeed the whole of this prosecution furnishes a fatal proof, how madly popular assemblies (when they overleap the bounds of law) naturally hurry into acts of tyranny and oppression. William second Earl of Strafford, was eldest son of Thomas, whose honours were restored to him by patent 1641, and the attainder reversed by Act of Parliament soon after the Restoration. Ob. 1695, without issue; having married Henrietta Maria, daughter of James seventh Earl of Derby. Charles I. ætat. 33, by Vandyck, whole-length; a superb picture, where the melancholy trait of countenance is strongly pourtrayed. Henry Duke of Glocester was the favourite child of Charles I.; after his father's execution, he went abroad, and participated the fortune of his family, dependant on the Court of France; from many of the miseries of which he was, however, spared by an early death. Ob. 1660. Æt. 20. ​Queen Henrietta Maria, and Jeffrey Hudson, by Vandyck. There is a duplicate of this picture at Petworth. This diminutive attendant was served up in a pie at an entertainment given by the Duke of Buckingham, and is said not to have exceeded eighteen inches in height, until he had attained thirty years of age, when he shot up to three feet nine inches. During the civil wars, he filled the rank of captain in the royal army; his appearance rendered him liable to insult, and engaged him in a duel with Mr. Croft, who would have met him with a squirt, but the dwarf proposed pistols on horseback, and shot his antagonist dead with the first fire. He was confined on suspicion of being concerned in a Popish plot after the Restoration, and died in the Gatehouse, aged 63. Thomas Butler Earl of Ossory, (by Mytens) son of the first, and father of the second Duke of Ormond; a man of courage and intrepidity seldom equalled, perhaps never exceeded, yet so perfectly gentle and amiable as to have endeared himself to all ranks. He commanded the English troops in the service of the Prince of Orange, at the battle of Mons, and served under Prince Rupert in the memorable sea-fight of 1666. Obiit 1680. Æt. 46. The Karl is in armour, and the fore part of a white horse appears extremely grand. ​George Calvert Lord Baltimore, (whole length) secretary to Sir Robert Cecil, and afterwards appointed secretary of state to James I. by whom he was raised to the peerage, and obtained a grant of the province of Maryland from Charles I. Villiers Duke of Buckingham, a whole length by Cornelius Jansen, Arabella Countess of Strafford, (whole length) second wife to Earl Thomas, and daughter of John Holies Earl of Clare. It was by the marriage of her daughter Anne to Edward Lord Rockingham, that the Went worth property became vested in the family of the late Marquis. Katharine of Portugal, a small half-length by Lely. The grand dining-room, forty feet square, and twenty feet high: Lord Strafford and his Secretary; the former supposed to be dictating to the latter his defence; one of the grandest works of Vandyck. The titles of this nobleman were, the Hon. Thomas Earl of Strafford; Viscount Wen tworth; Baron Went worth of Wentworth, Woodhouse, Newmarch, Oversley, and Raby; lord lieutenant-general, and general governor of Ireland; lord president of the council established in the northern parts of England; lord-lieutenant of the county and city of York; knight of the garter; and one of the privy council.——— ​That the bearer of all these accumulated honours should be the objeft of public indignation and private resentment, can hardly be matter of surprise, if we recollect, that they were conferred at a period, when to deserve the love of the subject was not found to be the best method of securing the favour of the sovereign. But independent of that envy and jealousy to which Strafford by his exalted situation became liable, he had considerably heightened the rancour of party by his desertion from the popular cause, to which he had early in life declared himself warmly attached; and on his apostacy was warned of his destiny by Pym, in these memorable words: "You have left us; but I will not leave you, whilst you have a head on your shoulders." The parliament no sooner felt itself assured of its superior strength, than the opportunity was seized to carry this threat into execution, when the court minister was impeached by the Commons of England, and the charge carried up to the Lords by Pym. His defence before his compeers was spirited, nervous, and energetic; yet looking at the temper of the times, we are not surprized to find that it was not sufficiently impressive to defeat the bill of attainder which was produced in the lower house, and approved by the Lords. He was executed on Tower​Hill, May 12, 1641. Æt. 49. A few weeks afterwards, the same parliament remitted to his children the heavier consequences of his sentence; and the attainder was reversed immediately after the Restoration. Anne Hyde Duchess of York was eldest daughter to the celebrated Lord Chancellor Clarendon, and married to James II. (before he came to the crown) soon after the Restoration; having so far previously favoured his addresses whilst abroad, as to render an early marriage not only a point of honour but of necessity. She died 1671, openly professing the Catholic religion. Sir ——— Stanhope, 1572, great grandfather of William Earl of Strafford. A fine portrait of Whistle-Jacket, a celebrated racer belonging to the late Marquis, by Stubbs. There is no back ground to this piece, the noble owner of it fearing the introduction of one might spoil the picture. Perhaps, indeed, it may be judicious to omit them in portraits, as the relief is greater without them, and the attention then confined entirely to the subject. There is much nature and spirit in this picture, painted 36 years ago. This room is not fitted up. The beautiful white marble chimney-piece cost 700l. ​The chapel is square, simple in its decorations, and fitted up with oak. Here are found the following pictures:—A large and magnificent piece, by Luca Giordano, Samuel slaying the Philistines.—The twelve Apostles, in twelve separate works, and Christ; all copied from Guido.—Madona and Child, by Andrea del Sarto; the ease of the child's figure, and the infantine innocence of his face, are strikingly beautiful.—Head of our Saviour crowned with thorns, Guido; exquisite expression of acute suffering endured with resignation, admirably marking the character of Him who was "a man of "sorrows and acquainted with grief."—St. Jerome and an Angel Guercino,—The preparation to slay St. Bartholomew; by Espagnoletto; like most of the other efforts of his pencil, bold, expressive, and horribly fine.—Five scripture-pieces on copper; small, but highly finished. The library is sixty feet by twenty; over the chimney is a figure in wood, large as life, of The Hon. Thomas Watson Wentworth, second son of Edward second Lord Rockingham. He succeeded to the estate of his uncle William Earl of Strafford, and assumed the name of Wentworth. In the white bed-chamber is a curious original portrait of Henry the Seventh on wood; a rigid likeness, but hard outline. ​Gulielmus de Nassau, Prince of Orange.—Margaret Wentworth, youngest daughter to the first Earl of Strafford; by Lely.—Sir Christopher Wordsworth; half-length, by Cornelius Janssen.—Henry Vere Earl of Oxford, lord high chamberlain; obiit 1625.—Boys blowing bubbles, and eating oysters, very fine; by Lely.—A large Landscape, by Paul Veronese.—An Holy Family, by Andrea del Sarti.—Henry Prince of Wales, a small half-length, most beautiful. A small imaginary portrait of our Saviour, three quarters, painted on wood with this inscription: "This present figure is the similitude of our Lord J.H.S. our Saviour, imprinted on an emerald by the predecessors of the great Turke, and sent to Pope Innocent the Eighth, for a token to redeem his brother that was taken prisoner." A large Landscape with ruins; Nic. Poussin. Over the door, a Portuguese Courtezan, and an old man paying his court to her by feeding her parrot; Paul Giordano. Charlotte de la Tremouille Countess of Derby; ætat. 18, 1634. She was wife of James the 7th Earl of Derby; her name will long stand high in the annals of heroism, for her gallant defence of Lathom-House and the isle of Man. It was her ​proud boast to have been the last person in the British dominions who submitted to the Republic. —Her Sister; Ætat. 10, A.D. 1634. Christ taken from the Cross;, a fine piece, in which the three women are introduced, and a light diffused over the figures from the lamp. Carracci. Claude de la Tremouille Duc de Thouars, a peer of France, but more truly honoured as the father of the above-mentioned Countess of Derby. Sigismunda; a fine head. Thomas Wriothesley fourth Earl of Southampton. He was second son of Shakespeare's celebrated patron, and succeeded to the title on the death of his father, who survived the eldest son. Although steadily attached to Charles I. he never suffered his personal regard for the sovereign to overcome the duty which he owed his country., On the Restoration he was appointed lord-treasurer, which office he retained till his death in 1667, and frequently, though unsuccessfully, endeavoured to reduce the expences of Charles's licentious court; but he was doomed to feel that the giddy monarch, who could value his counsel on other occasions, would not sacrifice his own course of riotous pleasures and extravagance. Half-length, by Lely. James II. when young. Small whole length.—Henry Frederic de Nassau Prince of Orange, (1629, ​half-length) grandfather to William III. Obiit 1647.—A drinking party of Peasants, by Ostade. James Stanley seventh Earl of Derby; half-length, by Cornelius Janssen. The annals of Charles I. furnish innumerable instances of courage, intrepidity, loyalty, and attachment; but no one appears to have served his cause more faithfully than this nobleman, who displayed many proofs of valour during the civil wars, particularly at Wigan, where, with six hundred horse, he withstood a corps of three thousand, commanded by Colonel Lilburne; and after receiving seven shots on his breast-plate, thirteen cuts on his beaver, five wounds on his arms and shoulders, and having two horses killed under him, he effected his escape to Worcester, in which battle he was made prisoner, and executed, in violation of a promise of quarter. This may, perhaps, be attributed to his spirited and irritating answer returned to Ireton, who offered him his own terms to surrender the isle of Man; and which is preserved in detail by Lord Orford in his ' Memoirs of Noble Authors.' An Earl of Derby, fifty-eight years of age.—A Female Spinner; very fine, by Teniers.—Small head of Christ, and another of Mary, both exquisite specimens of Carlo Dolci's characteristic softness.—A Dutch Fisherman, by Mieris. ​Rembrandt, by himself. He was son of a miller near Leyden, and though highly esteemed as a painter, yet is better known as an engraver; but his works in either branch are highly valuable and rare. The most perfect, collection of his etchings was possessed by the late Mr. Dalby of Liverpool, and on his death (experiencing the lot to which all collections are subject) were disposed of by public auction, when fifty-seven guineas were given for a single print. Obiit 1674. In the white dressing-room is the finest picture in the collection, a sleeping Cupid, by Guido. Holy Family, by Raphael; tender contour, and fine colouring. Dr. William Harvey, half-length. He was physician to James I. and his successor, and a great benefactor to the College of Physicians; but his contribution to society at large was infinitely greater, by his discovery of the circulation of the blood, which was justly declared by a contemporary writer to have been preferable to the discovery of the new world. Obiit 1657, Æt. 80. A reputed original half-length portrait of Shakespeare, inscribed, " This portrait belonged to John Dryden, esq; and was given to him by Sir Godfrey Kneller." See Dryden's epistle to Sir Godfrey Kneller, in his Works, vol. ii. The late ​Marquis valued this picture so highly as to keep it constantly in his own bedchamber. A Cupid; fine copy from Titian.—The Six Poets of Italy; a singularly striking groupe, by Vasari. Cardinal Richelieu; an original picture, half-length. He was prime minister to Louis XIII. and one of the greatest politicians that ever directed the affairs of any nation. Whilst employed in rendering absolute the power of the crown, he had the address so far to engage the minds of the people, and promote the honour of the nation, as to make them willing parties to the sacrifice of their remaining liberties. He instituted a botanic garden at Paris; founded the French Academy; established the royal press; rebuilt the college of Sorbonne; and, by his counsels to Mazarine, laid the foundation of all the wonders displayed by France during the reign of Louis XIV. He died 1642, and was interred in the college which he had rebuilt; where a superb mausoleum was erected to the memory of one who had so liberally promoted learning, and furnished a magnificent specimen of the arts which he had so largely patronized. A Virgin and Jesus, from the Orleans collection; by Raphael. James Graham first Marquis of Montrose, In the catalogue of Charles's followers, distinguished ​by their valour, intrepidity, loyalty, and attachment, we find no one shining more eminently conspicuous than this nobleman, who early attached himself to the royal cause, and was nominated captain-general of Scotland, where his military exploits are amongst the most brilliant in history. When the king sought protection in the Scotch camp at Newark, previous to his being delivered up by that nation for 400,000l. to his English subjects, he was prevailed upon to command all his garrisons to surrender. By this order, Montrose was induced to throw down his arms, and retire to France; thence passing into Germany, he was much caressed by the Emperor, vested with the rank of Marechal, and employed to levy a regiment for the Imperial service in the Low Countries. But Charles II. allured by the promise of support from Scotland, sent to him from the Hague, renewing his commission of captain-general, in which rank, with a handful of mercenary troops collected in Holland and Germany, and small supplies of arms and money from the courts of Sweden, Denmark, and the Emperor, he sailed for the Orkneys; and on his advance to Caithness, he was opposed and defeated by Leslie, his whole army killed or made prisoners, and he himself, in the disguise of a peasant, was delivered up to the enemy, by the ​treachery of Lord Aston. Every species of indignity and insult was offered to his person, which was paraded through the streets of Edinburgh in his assumed habit, tied to a high cart, in order that he might be more fully exposed to the scoffing multitude; and was brought before the Parliament there sitting, when he did not humble himself by lamenting his past conduct, but fully vindicated every act of his life, except that in his youth he had been seduced for a short time to tread in the paths of rebellion. He was sentenced to be hanged on a gibbet thirty feet high, and the execution was marked with every aggravation of cruelty that could be devised; but he died as he lived, displaying an exemplary proof of heroism rarely to be met with but in Plutarch. Obiit 1650. Emilia Sophia Marchioness of Athol; daughter to James seventh Earl of Derby, and sister to Henrietta Maria, wife of the second Earl of Strafford.—William Richard George 9th Earl of Derby. Obiit 1702.—Lucretia stabbing herself; an affecting picture, by Guido.—Joseph and Potiphar's Wife; by Spanialo, a pupil of Dominichino.—An admirable copy of Vandyck's famous picture of Lord Strafford and his Secretary.—Orlando and Armida; Myeris.—Peasantry on horseback; in which the characteristic figure of Wouvermans, the white horse, ​marks it for his work.—Catherine Stanley Marchioness of Dorchester, third daughter of Francis Earl of Derby; obiit 1678. Whole length, by Lely. A large picture by Guercino, Hagar, Ishmael, and the Angel; a beautiful expression of grief in the countenances of the first, and of pity and benevolence in that of third. Hagar's face is a portrait of Guercino's favourite woman; it occurs in almost all his pieces. Francis Clifford Earl of Cumberland, whole length; father to the first wife of Thomas Earl of Strafford.—A Magdalen, by Titian. Deep contrition, and the most perfect prostration of soul, characterize this face. One of the most splendid cabinets in the kingdom, composed of tortoise-shell and gilt brass, compleats the ornaments of this room. The grand drawing-room is forty feet square and twenty-four high, and contains, An Earl of Rockingham, half-length. Sir William Wentworth, father of Thomas first Earl of Strafford, was a Yorkshire gentleman of great landed property, and created twenty-second baronet in the list of precedency by James I. Ob. 1614. He married Anne, daughter of Sir Robert Atkins, of Glocester, the historian of that county. ​William second Earl of Strafford, and his two sisters Anne Lady Rockingham, and Arabella Lady Mountcassel; groupe by Vandyck. Hon. Mr. Watson Wentworth, father of the first Marquis; was member for Higham-Ferrers during the reign of Queen Anne, and a liberal benefactor to the poor clergy of the county of York. Married Alice, daughter of Sir Thomas Proby. Thomas first Marquis of Rockingham, was made knight of the Bath by George I. and advanced to the peerage in the succeeding reign. He rebuilt Wentworth-House. Ob. 1750. Lady Proby was daughter to Sir Robert Cotton Bruce, wife to Sir Thomas Proby, and grandmother to the first Marquis of Rockingham. Charles late Marquis of Rockingham, by Sir Joshua Reynolds. The museum, as it is appropriately called, is a repository of several valuable antiques, and exquisite copies of them. Ranged down the sides of the room, are ten columns of light yellow; the pedestals and capitals white marble, each supporting a bust of the same material. Four fine statues by Nollekens, Diana, Venus, Juno, and Minerva.—A Silenus sitting on a goat, with a bunch of grapes in his right hand; an antique.—Bust of Bacchus, crowned with grapes; ​antique, but when the arts were low.—The emperor Adrian's Wife; a well-preserved antique bust.—Egyptian female bust; antique.—A Bacchus, ditto.—Bust of Nero, ditto.—Paris, ditto, not so large as life; the fatal apple in his left hand, which induced the destructive hatred of Juno and Minerva, and the pernicious friendship of Venus; in a shepherd's dress, and pastoral crook in his right hand. A sitting Jupiter, ditto; grand and majestic, though small.—An unknown female bust; antique.—Cybele, with a turretted head; ditto.—The rape of Ganymede by an eagle; the limbs of the former graceful and delicate.—Bust of Bacchus; antique.—Cupid and Psyche kissing; ditto.—Two fine Centaurs, ditto.—Head of Laocoon, a grand bust by Wilton.—Antinöus, naked; antique, hair not so bushy as usually sculptured. Every thing without the mansion is consistent with the magnificence and expence which reign within it. The menagerie and stables, in its immediate neighbourhood, are executed upon a princely scale; and the more distant decorations of the extensive park (which embraces one thousand six hundred acres within its inclosure) evince the grand conceptions of the noble Marquis under whose directions the whole was principally executed. To enumerate and analyse the august and ​diversified views which are caught from particular parts of the wide domain, would exhaust my powers of description, and fatigue your attention. I should only, indeed, be ringing tiresome changes upon waving woods, fine expanses of water, grand slopes, swelling hills, temples, towers, pyramids, and obelisks; without conveying to your mind one adequate idea of the happy combinations of those different objects, which afford such pleasure to the eye, whilst contemplating them in nature. Let it be sufficient for me, then, to lead you to the chief artificial decoration of Wentworth park, the Mausoleum, (of fine free-stone) built by the present Earl Fitzwilliam, in honour of his glorious predecessor, the late Marquis of Rockingham. It stands on an elevated spot of ground, to the right of the grand entrance into the park from the Rotherham road; is ninety feet high, and consists of three divisions. A Doric basement story, square; another above this of the same figure, but of Ionic architecture; each of its four sides opening into the form of an arch, and disclosing an elegant sarcophagus standing in the centre. This is surmounted by a cupola, supported by twelve columns of the same order, taking a circular arrangement. At each corner of the railing that incloses this superb edifice is an obelisk of great ​height. But the most interesting part of it is the interior of the lower story; an apartment rising into a dome, ornamentally stuccoed, and supported by eight pillars, encircling a white marble statue of the late Marquis of Rockingham in his robes, as large as life, by the admirable chissel of Nollekens. This stands on a square pedestal, one side of which is inscribed with the titles of this great man. The remaining three form a noble, but just, tribute to his memory, being dedicated to deserved eulogium, and the effusions of disinterested friendship. The verses and laudatory lines are as follow:— " Angels, whose guardian care is England, spread " Your shadowing wings o'er patriot Wentworth dead: " With sacred awe his hallow'd ashes keep, " Where commerce, science, honour, friendship, weep " The pious hero the deeply-sorrowing wife " All the soft tics which blcss'd his virtuous life. " Gentle, intrepid, generous, mild, and just; " These heartfelt titles graced his honour'd dust. " No fields of blood, by laurels ill repaid, " No plunder'd proviuces, disturb his shade; " But white-rob'd Peace compos'd his closing eyes, " And join'd with soft Humanity her sighs: " They mourn their patron gone, their friend no more, " And England's tears his short-liv'd power deplore." " A man worthy to be held in remembrance, because he did not live for himself. His abilities, industry, and influence were employed, without interruption, to the last ​hour of his life, to give stability to the liberties of his country; security to its landed property; increase to its commerce; independence to its public counsels; and concord to its empire. These were his ends. For the attainment of these ends., his policy consisted in sincerity, fidelity, directness, and constancy. In opposition, he respected the principles of government. In administration, he provided for the liberties of the people. He employed his moments of power in realizing every thing which he had professed in a popular situation; the distinguishing mark of his public conduct. Reserved in profession, sure in performance, he laid the foundation of a solid confidence. " He far exceeded all other statesmen in the art of drawing together, without the seduction of self-interest, the concurrence and co-operation of various dispositions and abilities of men, whom he assimilated to his character, and associated in his labours. For it was his aim through life to convert party connection, and personal friendship, (which others had rendered subservient only to temporary views and the purposes of ambition) into a lasting depository of his principles; that their energy should not depend upon his life, nor fluctuate with the intrigues of a court, or with capricious fashions amongst the people. But that by securing a succession in support of his maxims, the British constitution might be preserved according to its true genius, on ancient foundations, and institutions of tried utility. " The virtues of his private life, and those which he exhibited in the service of the state, were not, in him, separate principles. His private virtues, without any change in their character, expanded with the occasion into enlarged public affections. The very same tender, benevolent, feeling, liberal mind, which in the internal relations of life conciliated the genuine love of those who see men ​as they are, rendered him an inflexible patriot. He was devoted to the cause of freedom, not because he was haughty and intractable, but because he was beneficent and humane. " A sober, unaffected, unassuming piety, the basis of all true morality, gave truth and permanence to his virtues. " He died at a fortunate time, before he could feel, by a decisive proof, that virtue like his, must be nourished from its own substance only, and cannot be assured of any external support. " Let his successors, who daily behold this monument, consider that it was not built to entertain the eye, but to instruct the mind ! Let them reflect, that their conduct will make it their glory or their reproach. Let them feel that similarity of manners, not proximity of blood, gives them an interest in this statue. " Remember; resemble; persevere." In four recesses in the wall of this apartment within the pillars, are eight white marble busts, placed in the following order:—To the right of the entrance, in the first niche, are Edmund Burke and the Duke of Portland; in the second, Frederic Montague and Sir George Saville; in the third, Charles Fox and Admiral Keppel; in the fourth, Lord J. Cavendish and John Lee. From this sumptuous edifice a good idea may be formed of Wentworth demesne. A boundless prospect of the richest part of England lies open to the eye, infinitely diversified; the grandest feature of which is the park. The woods, the water, the tower, ​the pyramid, and the house, all fall into the picture; and present a scene in which it is difficult to say whether the beauty of nature, the efforts of art, or the operations of taste, are to be most admired. Viewing Wentworth home grounds and mansion from hence, we had no hesitation in pronouncing it to be the finest place we had ever seen. Pursuing our interesting ride for nine miles through a continuation of that fertile country which marks this division of Yorkshire for the paradise of England, we reached the park of Wentworth-Castle, the seat of the late Earl of Strafford. The grounds, which have every advantage that nature could give them, in agreeable undulations, and "solemn midnight groves," are injured in the injudicious attempt to add a beauty to them by artificial trifles; such as made ruins, Chinese temples, &c. A view of uncommon beauty over the lawn is caught from the portico of the principal front, a most elegant specimen of ornamental architecture. The hall, a room forty feet square, presented us with a portrait of Thomas third Earl of Strafford, a distinguished favourite of William III. to whom he proved of signal service in his campaigns in Flanders. On the accession of Queen Anne, he was appointed ambassador extraordinary to the Court of Berlin, ​and afterwards went in the same character to the States-General; from whence he removed to assist in concluding the peace at Utrecht. Soon after the arrival of George I. in England, he was removed from all official situations; but such was the estimation in which he was held by the Hollanders, that on quitting the Hague, he was presented with a gold medal and chain worth 6000 gilders. Obiit 1739. A curious picture containing three crowned personages, Frederick first King of Prussia, Augustus of Poland, and Frederick of Denmark, dancing. This picture was presented to the above ambassador, to perpetuate the remembrance of a fête given by him at Berlin A. D. 1705, at which these royal personages, with the Queen of Prussia, assisted. Mary Princess of Orange, daughter of James II. and Queen of William III. It is a curious fact, that even after James had forfeited all pretensions to the throne, yet so unwilling were the people to adopt any one who might appear like a deviation from the regular line of hereditary succession, that it was at first determined to place the crown on the head of Mary, and not of William. Obiit 1694, Æt. 33. Vandyck. Thomas Earl of Strafford on horseback.— Four Views of Rome, by Carnialetti. ​The ceiling is painted with the story of Endymion and Morpheus, by Amicini. In the Gentleman's dressing-room, is Sophia Electress of Hanover, daughter of Elizabeth of Bohemia, and mother of George I. In the state bedchamber we find, Lady Eleanor Brandon, daughter of Charles Duke of Suffolk by Mary sister of Henry VIII. and wife of Henry Clifford second Earl of Cumberland; by Lucas de la Heere. In the Lady's dressing-room are, The Judgment of Paris, and the Death of Dido; two fine pieces by Carlo Maratti. Sir Philip Sidney; whole length; black breeches, stockings, and cloak, white satin doublet and bows; a fine picture. The reign of Elizabeth furnishes a copious catalogue of illustrious personages, who appear emulously striving to excel each other in deeds of great and fair renown ; and by more than one historian has the palm been adjudged to Sidney, who was alike conspicuous in the tilt-yard and field of battle, in the cabinet and the closet. His name appears in several lists of tournaments, and his valour was displayed in Flanders. His conduft, whilst ambassador to the court of Germany, was so exemplary, that the Poles offered to elect him king; his poetry and prose were both in higher and ​longer estimation than most contemporary works. But the proudest act of his life may be found at its close: having received a mortal wound at the battle of Zutphen, and being nearly exhausted with pain and excessive bleeding, he obtained some drink, and was in the act of lifting it to his mouth, when a poor soldier (whom they were removing from the field desperately wounded) fixed his anxious eyes upon the bottle; which the hero instantly delivered to him, saying, "Thy necessity is still greater than mine." Obiit 1586. In the best drawing-room: Diana and Actæon; a very fine picture by Tellan. Actæon's emotions of astonishment and delight at the unexpected scene before him, admirably expressed; as well as the smile of Diana, speaking mischief. Her hand lifted up has almost the substance and spirit of life.—Westminster Bridge, and two Sea-pieces, by Botart. Over the chimney, David with Goliath's Head, by Carlo Maratti. Great ease in the posture and limbs of David, who is reposing after the conflict. Two sheep-pieces'; by Rosa de Tivoli. In the dining-room: Lord Strafford and his Secretary. There has been a dispute, which of the two pictures, that at Wentworth-House, or the one before us, was the ​original by Vandyck. They are both extremely fine, but we are inclined to prefer the former; though it is probable they were both from the pencil of this great master. Lady Ann Campbell Countess of Strafford.—Anne daughter of Sir John Wentworth of Gorsfield, wife of Thomas Lord Wentworth deputy of Calais, and her three children, 1. William, who married Elizabeth, daughter of William Lord Burleigh, and died without issue. 2. Henry Lord Wentworth, who married Anne Hopton, and was father of Thomas Earl of Cleveland. 3. Elizabeth, who married William, son of Sir Francis Hynde, of Madingly, ancestor of Sir John Hynde Cotton. Margaret Lucas Duchess of Newcastle; by Lely. She was sister of the first Lord Lucas, and wife to William Cavendish Duke of Newcastle. When the merits of a writer shall be decided upon in proportion to the quantity of his works, then will her Grace have pre-eminent title to a niche in the temple of fame; having produced no less than thirteen folio volumes of plays and poems. Obiit 1673. Peter the Great; whole length, by Amecone. He is clothed in uniform, with large boots on; the Imperial mantle over his shoulder, and a truncheon in his hand. His countenance is intelligent, and bespeaks the legislator, philosopher, and hero. ​The gallery is a noble room, one hundred and sixty feet long, thirty wide, and twenty-four high. A small division is formed at each end, by two columns of grey marble, with gilt capitals, and as many statues in white marble (casts from antiques) between them. At the one end Apollo Vaticanus, and an Egyptian priestess; at the other, Antinöus, and Ceres. Here we find the following noble collection of pictures: Seven pieces, representing the Duke of Marlborough's Battles. —Consolation of the Virgin', by C. Maratti.—Gipsies telling fortunes; by Espagnoletto: of uncommon merit; the professional countenance of the fortune-teller, in which cunning and roguery are strongly expressed, particularly good.—Holy Family; by Carlo Maratti.—Apollo crowning merit; a copy from Guido.—Holy Family; a copy from Raphael.—View of Venice; by Carmoletti.—Two Battle-pieces; by Berghem.—A Miracle of St, Paul; by Carlo Maratti.—A Female; by ditto.—Carlo Maratti; by himself.—A Man and his two Wives; by ditto.—Gamesters; by Espagnoletto. Three fine figures; the simplicity of the pigeon, and the professional sagacity of the gamester, well managed.—Christ in the Garden; by C. Maratti.—John in the Wilderness; by Espagnoletto. —Charles I. on horseback; by Vandyck.—Queen Anne; ​Lady Strafford; and Thomas, second Earl of Strafford; all by Kneller;—Charles I. and the Duke of Hamilton; a most superb picture, whole length, by Vandyck. James Duke of Monmouth. His connection with Lady Henrietta Wentworth, is subject of notoriety; and whilst we are obliged to condemn the vices of the man, we cannot avoid admiring the magnanimity of the lover, who on the scaffold refused to confess any thing against the honour of his mistress. It is a singular fact, that when about to atone for all his worldly crimes, he felt the edge of the axe, feared it was not sharp enough, and desired that he might not experience Lord Russel's lingering treatment from an unskilful executioner; which, however, was his fate, his head only being severed from his body by the fifth stroke. William III. whole length.—Thomas first Earl of Strafford, and his Dog; whole length, by Vandyck. Charles XIIth of Sweden, in the dress he wore at Albranstadt in Saxony 1704; blue uniform, and large military gloves; high large forehead, aquiline nose, penetrating eye, and light brown hair turned back. He was one of those monarchs chiefly famed for the wars in which they have embroiled their subjects. This sovereign (who is described as bold, intrepid, and magnanimous) is rather to be ​held up as an object of wonder than imitation. He was killed by a random shot, at the siege of Fredericshall, 1718. Æt. 37. Lady Margaret Lovelace, and Richard Lord Lovelace; ob. 1634. So says the catalogue; but I imagine them to be the portraits of John Lord Lovelace of Hurley, so created by Charles I. in 1627, and his wife Anne Baroness Wentworth of Nettlested. Independent of this family connection with John, I am encouraged to favour this opinion, because the title never was enjoyed by a Richard Lovelace. —Thomas Lord Wentworth of Nettlested, chamberlain of the houshold to Edward VI. Ob. 1557. —Miss Wentworth, one of the seventeen children of Thomas Lord Wentworth. —Edward VI. a coarse original. In Lady Strafford's dressing-room: John Campbell Duke of Argyle; father of Anne Countess of Strafford. Obiit 1743. In Lord Strafford's dressing-room: First Earl of Strafford — Piercy Earl of Thomond, brother to Charles first Earl of Egremont; he succeeded to the estate of Henry O'Brien Earl of Thomond, who had married his mother's eldest sister; created Earl of Thomond 1754, ob. 1774. —Lady Betty Mackenzie, sister to Anne Countess of Strafford; married James Stewart Mackenzie, ​brother to John Earl of Bute. —Lady Charlotte Boyle, Marchioness of Hartington; she was sole heiress to Richard Earl of Burlington and wife of —William Marquis of Harrington; who succeeded his father as Duke of Devonshire, 1755. —Lady Henrietta Vernon, daughter of Earl Strafford, the ambassador, and wife of James Vernon, esq; ob. 1786. —John Duke of Marlborough. —John Marquis of Lorn. —Lord Cathcart.—Voltaire. —John Campbell. —Marquis of Rockingham. —Countess of Strafford. —Francis Earl of Dalkeith; married Caroline, eldest sister of Anne Countess of Strafford. Ob. 1750. —William second Earl of Strafford. —Dorothea late Duchess of Portland; sister to the present Duke of Devonshire, and wife to the present Duke of Portland; ob. 1794. —Lady Mary Coke, youngest sister to Anne Countess of Strafford, and wife of Edw. Viscount Coke. —Second Countess of Strafford. —Mary Duchess of Norfolk. In the library: Duke of Devonshire. It is rather a singular circumstance, that since the year 1618, when this title was conferred on the Cavendishes, it has uniformly been held by a William. —Lady Lucy Howard, wife of Sir G. Howard; Lady Henrietta Vernon; Lady Ann Connolly; three daughters of Thomas Earl of Strafford, the ambassador. —William ​Earl of Strafford; married Henrietta, 2d daughter of James Earl of Derby. —Sir George Wentworth, brother of Thomas first Earl of Strafford. In the little library: The third Countess of Strafford, In the supper-room: Sir Thomas Wentworth. —Thomas Earl of Strafford; ob. 1739; married Anne, sole heiress of Sir Henry Johnson, of Bradenham, Bucks. The quadrangular building called the Castle, built by Thomas Earl of Strafford in 1730, placed upon the scite of an ancient fortress, is heavy and tasteless. A good marble statue of this nobleman, by Ruysbrack, stands in the centre of its area, but is much injured by time and neglect. The obelisk erected to the memory of Lady Mary Wortley Montague has also to complain of the same enemies; and were her ladyship's memory to rest only upon the inscription in Wentworth park, she would add one to the many examples of the evanescence of human fame, by speedily sinking into oblivion. We were soon relieved, however, from the melancholy contemplation of the temporary duration and instability of that which mortals take such unceasing pains to procure, "the vain breath of a misjudging world," by the bustle of trade, and the noise of manufactories, as we approached and entered ​black Barnsley; as it is appropriately called, from its being situated amid the smoke of engines, and the dingy dust of coal-works. The clothing country now commenced, and the little villages that occurrred between this place and Wakefield, were busied in some branch of that extensive woollen manufacture which has thrown such inexhaustible wealth into Yorkshire; cloathed its hills with fatness; and filled its broad vales with houses and population. But in attending to the operations of present industry, we were not forgetful of the remains of ancient grandeur; and left the road a mile to the south of Wakefield, to take a passing look at the ruins of Sandall-Castle, built by one of the Earls Warren, in the thirteenth century. It afterwards became the residence of Edward Baliol, who passed here those anxious hours of suspence which elapsed whilst Edward III. was raising an army to re-establish him on the throne of his fathers ; a troublesome possession, which he was afterwards as glad to relinquish to his royal friend, as he had been desirous of obtaining it. In the reign of Henry VI. it afforded less auspicious shelter to the unfortunate Duke of York, who had appointed Sandall-Castle as the rendezvous of his army. Margaret, however, ever prompt and active, reached the spot with her troops before ​his forces could muster there, and threatening a siege, compelled him to a battle. Shakespeare has faithfully delineated York's character, when he makes him despise the great inequality of the numbers which were opposed to each other on the occasion: " Five men to twenty! though the odds be great, " I doubt not, uncle, of our victory. " Many a battle have I won in France, " When as the enemy hath been ten to one; " Why should I not now have the like success?" But the event did not justify his confidence. The Yorkists were routed, the Duke killed, and the castle taken. On the spot where the Duke fell, a stone memorial was erected, after the discomfiture of the Queen's party, and continued there till the civil wars in the seventeenth century, when it was removed. The ruins are picturesque, but not extensive; and evince that the situation must have been strong, before the destructive effects of gunpowder were known. Opposed to this pleasing object, and its surrounding scenery on the left, was a more magnificent landscape to the right— the village of Heath, with its many noble mansions reposing upon the side of hill, which swelled gently out of a rich valley, watered by the river Calder. The bridge ​thrown across the Calder, that conduced us into Wakefield, offers a beautiful specimen of Gothic architecture in a little chapel highly charged with sculptured ornaments, and vulgarly said to have been built by Edward IV. in memory of his unfortunate father; but known to have existed seventy years previously to his reign. Its ecclesiastical uses expired with masses and obits at the Reformation, and it now serves the purpose of a warehouse. The town of Wakefield is laid out in several handsome streets, and ornamented with a magnificent Gothic church. Great wealth has been thrown into it by the woollen trade; an affluence which is seen in its large proportion of respectable private mansions. The business of the common weekly markets of Thursday and Friday is chiefly the sale of this article by the factors, to whom it is consigned from all parts of England, and the purchase of it by the manufacturers of the neighbouring clothing country. A large cattle fair every fortnight supplies provision, in a great measure, to the bordering counties of Cheshire and Lancashire. Though some of the white cloths, the production of the Yorkshire manufactories, be sold at Wakefield, yet by far the greatest part find a market at Leeds, nine miles further to the north, a town rising into the first importance in point of internal ​commerce; chiefly owing to its advantageous centrical situation, and partly to the spirit of the inhabitants, which, however, may be considered as much an effect as a cause. Several instances were pointed out to us of successful industry, in persons who from journeymen had arisen to princely independence; a proof at once of the profits and extent of the cloth trade in these parts. The advantages which have resulted to the town of Leeds in particular from this branch of English manufactures, may be readily imagined from the increase it has experienced in population within these twenty-five years. This, in 1775, amounted to seventeen thousand one hundred and seventeen; and in 1800, to thirty thousand, exclusive of ten thousand in the two adjoining parishes. The most curious feature of this place is its markets for mixed and white cloths, which are held every Tuesday and Saturday for the former, and every Saturday for the latter, in large halls erected for the purpose:—the one for mixed cloths, a quadrangular building one hundred and twenty-seven yards and half long and sixty-six broad; the other of the same form, but different dimensions, ninety-nine yards long and seventy broad. Here the cloths are exposed for sale in their rough state, as they are delivered from the fulling-mill. The ​merchants, who are the purchasers, have them dressed, dyed, and pressed, for the retail dealers. The progress of good sense, and gradual growth of notions of utility, within this last century, are marked by the successive improvements which have taken place in the mode of selling this valuable article. One hundred and twenty years ago the mixed cloths were exposed for sale upon the unsheltered battlements of the Aire bridge, open to all the inclemency of the weather, and all the dirt and injuries of passing carriages. It required nearly fifty years to convince the factors of the absurdity of this system, when the matter was but little mended by carrying the article into Brigge-street, and offering it to the merchant, spread on temporary stalls. In 1758, however, the trade had acquired wisdom enough to reform their plan altogether; the mixed cloth hall was built at the expence of the manufacturers; and about seventeen years afterwards, another for the white cloths upon a similar plan. Nothing can be more judicious, convenient, or systematic, than the arrangement of the wares, and the regulations of the sellers, in these receptacles. The larger or mixed cloth hall is laid out into six aisles, each containing two rows of stalls, amounting in all to one thousand seven hundred ​and seventy; every one of which is twenty-two inches in front, and is the freehold property of the manufacturer who occupies it, who can transfer it to any other manufacturer, (at a premium of about 16l.) provided he have served a regular apprenticeship to the making of mixed cloth; without which service no one can be admitted. The white cloth hall contains one thousand two hundred and ten stands, upon the same plan as the other. The hour of sale in the mixed cloth hall is from half-past eight to half-past nine ; in the white cloth ditto from a quarter before ten to a quarter before eleven. But exclusive of the cloth trade, Leeds is brought upon a par with our first commercial towns by several other considerable manufactories. One for the making of sail-cloth employs nearly eighteen hundred people. The cotton-mill, belonging to Messrs. Coupland, Wilkinson, and Coupland, is a concern of great extent; its grand and complicated operations, carried on by the power of one vast steam-engine, built by Mr. Murray, of Leeds, performing the work of forty horses, by machinery as beautiful and neat as that of a watch. Potteries and carpet manufactories also contribute to increase the riches of the town, whose advantages are rendered incalculable by rivers and canals, and inexhaustible mines of admirable coals on every side. ​The promise of a picturesque ruin led us to Kirkstall-Abbey, about three miles from Leeds— a little deviation from our road, which amply repaid our trouble. Ascending to the summit of Kirkstall hill, the rich vale in which these remains are situated, watered by the winding river Aire, darkened by deep and lofty woods, and grandly backed by distant hills, opened to us at once a scene of uncommon beauty. The detail of the abbey is equally interesting to the antiquary, as its cathedral presents the compleatest example (as far as it goes) of the architecture of the 12th century, of any in the kingdom. The design is plain, neat, and uniform ; the Saracenic arch inclosing the Saxon one at the western end points out that its erection was previous to the discontinuance of the Anglo-Norman style. Henry de Lacy founded it in 1157, and filled it with Cistercians, whose demesnes were valued at the Reformation at 329l. 2s. 11d. As our object was to see every thing that Art or Nature presented worth observation within the limits of our tour, we were led to visit Harewood-House, nine miles from Leeds, the seat of Edward Lord Harewood, a magnificent stone mansion, built by the late lord, in 1760; judiciously situated on the slope of a hill, which gives it a view over a park rather pleasing than grand. But nothing within ​interests the mind; no productions of the arts, unless indeed the labours of the gilder and upholsterer may be considered as deserving that character. Rich hangings and fine furniture may catch the gaze and captivate the fancy of the multitude, but taste and sensibility require some other food, and turn away with satiety from the glitter of golden cornices and the lustre of satin hangings. They will be more gratified in visiting the little ancient church, uniform and neat, half embosomed in a clump of trees in the park, and containing six table monuments, each crowned with two cumbent figures.—Here we find the upright Judge, Sir William Gascoigne, chief justice of the Court of King's-Bench, whose spirited conduct in refusing to obey the commands of Henry IV. and bring Archbishop Scroop to trial for treason, and whose coolness and intrepidity in committing the Prince of Wales to prison for interrupting the regular course of justice, are well authenticated in the early chronicles, and highly deserving our admiration. The last fact has been admirably worked up by Shakespeare in the second part of Henry IV.; where he not only pourtrays the virtuous independency of the Judge, but exhibits, in striking colours, the wisdom of a Prince, who loved the law, and was content to rule within its bounds. ​Sir Richard Redman's tomb lies next, and exhibits the effigies of himself (a knight, and lord of Harewood-Castle) and his Lady Elizabeth, daughter of Sir William Aldburgh, of Harewood. They lived in the reign of Henry VI. Sir William Ryther, knight , and Sybil his wife, repose beneath a third monument; the latter another daughter of Sir William Aldburgh. This is of the age of the former one. Our attention was then directed to the tomb of Sir Richard Redman, knt. grandson of the above-named Sir Richard, and his Lady Elizabeth, daughter of Sir William Gascoigne, of Gawthorpe, knt. Adjoining to this is the tomb of Sir John Neville, of Womersley, knight, who died in 1482, and left one daughter, the wife of the renowned Sir William Gascoigne. A sixth ancient tomb contains the ashes of Sir Richard Franks, knt. of the manor of Harewood. Attached to the wall is the tomb of Sir Thomas Denison, knight, who died one of the judges of the King's-Bench in 1765. The epitaph is said to have been written by the late Lord Mansfield, and pays a handsome complimentary tribute to the independence and undaunted respect for the laws, which his great predecessor Sir William Gascoygne exhibited. ​The ancient Norman castle of Harewood, that stood a few hundred yards from the modern mansion, was more remarkable for beauty of situation than strength. Its remains form a pleasing ruin, rearing their ivy-mantled walls from the broad declivity of a hill, which overlooks the wide vale watered by the river Wharfe. Its history is buried in the darkness of past ages; " It has no name, no honourable note, " No chronicle of all its warlike pride, " To testify what once it was; how great, " How glorious, and how fear'd."— Its founder is unknown; and all that can be gathered of its history, is a barren list of the names of the families which successively possessed it, till its demolition by the Parliamentarian forces in the civil wars: its lords have been the De Courcies, the Fitz-alans, and the De Redvers. We extended our walk for half a mile beyond the castle, to visit the spot which had given occasion to one of the most beautiful dramatic compositions in our language—the play of ' Elfrida,' by Mr. Mason; who sacrificing historical truth to effect, has converted the perfidious wife of Athelwold into an angel of light, and fascinated us with a bewitching picture of ideal truth and constancy. The spot in which ​Athelwold revenged the perfidy of his favourite, is, as the poet describes it, " A darkling dell, which opens in a lawn, " Thick set with elm around," and is pointed out by tradition as the scene of the murder in 963. Yorkshire now began to lose its natural beauties and artificial adornments. We had left the clothing country, and its numerous villages peopled by the happy race of manufacturers, who, remote from the contamination of large towns, pass their hours in industry and innocence, unenslaved by those vices which are too often found to result from the association of numbers in one place. The proudly wooded hills, and broad expanse of fertile vale, had also disappeared; and an uninteresting face of nature introduced itself in the room of these grand and impressive objects. In the midst of this scenery, Harrogate is situated, eight miles from Leeds; and though this town have divided itself into two parts, the higher and the lower the former seated upon a high flat, the other spread over a bottom yet neither has any claim to the picturesque. A line air, and an extensive view, which commands York Minster, and other objects, at twenty miles distance, may recommend High Harrogate to the visitor; but its ​relation in the bottom has no attraction, except for those who are condemned to drink its intolerable sulphuric waters, which offend both smell and taste in the highest degree. Three or four inns, or lodging-houses, and about one dozen of wretched shops, compose the upper town; and here are found the chalybiate springs, the old spa, and Pewit well. As many public inns, and a few private lodging-houses, form the lower town; which contains also the sulphur wells and a newly-discovered chalybeate spring, to which the proprietor has given the name of the Crescent Spring. We found the regular charges high, and the extraordinary ones imposing, at this place; which certainly would have but few attractions for any except the victims of disease, did not the distorted eye of fashion sometimes see beauty in the very bosom of deformity. The terms of lodging and boarding are, a private bed-chamber and parlour 1l. is. per week; breakfast, dinner, and supper, 6s. per day. Servants, 1l. is. per week. The approach to Knaresborough, from the Harrogate road, is by a bridge thrown over the little romantic river Nid, from whose battlements a beautiful and singular picture was laid before us, both above and below. Turning the eye up the stream, we caught a small reach of it, playing ​through verdant meadows, terminated by the rising grounds of Lady Cunningham's park, and overlooked by her modern elegant mansion. Below the bridge, the rocky banks shoot up into precipitous eminences, at the feet and on the sides and slope of which part of the town is built; blending together a curious association of rock, water, wood, and human dwellings. A very pleasing and retired walk, called the long walk, winds through the wood that clothes the steep declivity on the south side of the river; following whose meanders for half a mile, we were conduced to the old bridge, at the foot of which is a public-house, called the Mother Shipton, said to be the mansion where this old lady, so renowned in English necromancy, drew her first breath in the year 1488. The following lines of invitation over the door of this hospitium, invited us to apply to the landlord, who is entrusted with the key of the walk, for a sight of that curious natural phcenomenon, the petrifying well: " Come, gentle reader, turn this way, " Pass on the walk, the rock survey; " There Mother Shipton keeps her cell, " Hard by the fascinating well." Led by our ciceroni to the banks of the Nid, we saw a vast mass of petrified vegetable matter ​projecting fifteen feet from the face of the rock, and eighteen yards high, beetling over a small pool, and distilling into it from every part a thousand little streams, which give the surprising quantity of eighteen gallons in a minute. This water is so laden with calcareous matter, that whatever is exposed to its action becomes covered with a stony incrustation in the course of eight months, and assumes the appearance of a petrifaction; a conversion by which old hats, wigs, bird's-nests, &c. are made a source of some profit to the man who has the custody of the well. The spring that effects this transformation rises in a bed of stiff clay, fifty yards from the brow of the rock; but exhibits nothing of its petrifying quality, till it have percolated the lime-stone rock for about thirty yards, during which course it picks up the particles that it afterwards very conscientiously deposits again upon its front. Near the pool the little museum of the ciceroni is seen, the curious repository of his collection of incrustations, over the door of which an inscription explains the horrible figure of Mother Shipton, the Yorkshire Sybil, within: "Mark well this grot, don't miss the place, "Nor startle at her haggard face; "As you are come to see the well, "Pray take a peep into the cell." ​From this walk we had to the greatest advantage the ruins of Knaresborough- Castle on the opposite bank, unassociated with modern houses, which introduce themselves at every other point of view; the church too assumed a beautiful situation, and the southern part of the town, hanging amongst the rocks, was very picturesque. But little of the castle remains, though in its day it was much connected with the historical events of the kingdom. Serlo de Burgh founded it in the early Norman times, whose descendant transferred it to the Estotevilles. A connection of this house by marriage, concerned in the perpetration of that sacrilegious act, the murder of Becket at the altar, made Knaresborough-Castle the safe retreat of him- self and his accessaries for one year, and having defied the royal power, was only reduced to obedience and repentance by the authority of the church. The crown now became possessed of it, and granted it occasionally to favoured subjects, Hubert de Burgh^ Piers de Gaveston, and John of Gaunt. It then re-echoed the sighs of a captive monarch, Richard II. for whom it was made an intermediate prison between Leeds and Pomfret-Castle, the scene of his death. But after having served this republican purpose, its proud head was doomed to experience the ingratitude of ​the friends of the levelling system, and to fall under the desolating hand of Lilburne, the Parliamentarian commander. Returning over the old bridge, we visited the chapel of St. Robert, a hermit in Richard Ist's time, who, with an industry we cannot but admire, at the same time that we lament its wrong direction, excavated an apartment in the face of a high rock, nearly perpendicular, twelve feet long, nine wide, and eight high, adorning its roof with Gothic decorations, and its sides with an altar, recesses, and other sculptural representations. A knight- templar, carved in the rock, stands near the door of this little retreat, whose front shaded by ivy, sprinkled with lichens, and corroded with age, would be a very pretty object in a picture, if accompanied with a few fanciful appendages. Above this chapel, upon the same lofty rock which hangs over the margin of the river, is the hermitage; and further up the ascent Mon'agu fort, another excavation, the work of a poor man and his son, living chiefly by the precarious profits arising from the curiosity of travellers, who are led to survey this example of modern labour. The view from hence is rather extraordinary than beautiful, being a bird's-eye one over a scene of the most singular nature. ​The woman who shews the chapel, indulged us with a sight more remarkable than even the residence of St. Robert—her own son William Smith, a boy about 12 years old, whose hair may be considered as a great natural phenomenon. The texture of it somewhat resembles the finest wool, but in spite of this softness and delicacy, it stands projecting from his head like the nimbus around that of a saint, or the 'quills upon the fretful porcupine.' The quantity is prodigious; but the wonder of it has much lessened with the increase of the child's size, as the hair does not appear to keep pace with the expansion of his body. He must have been the most whimsical figure imaginable at half a year old, when this natural appendage to the human head suddenly grew to its present voluminous mass. As we entered Borough-Bridge, we left our vehicle and stepped into a meadow to the left hand, a few hundred yards from the road, attracted by three rude stone pillars, which range themselves parallel to the turnpike in nearly a strait line. They are called the Devil's arrows, and supposed, with great probability, to be Druidical. The southern pillar is five feet square at the base, twenty-four feet high, and one hundred and sixteen paces from the centre one, which is of nearly equal bulk, but stands a little out of the right line. The northern ​one is almost eighteen feet high, and has been calculated to weigh thirty-five tons. The middle and southern pillars are upwards of twenty-two feet high, and supposed to weigh thirty tons each. From these remains of high and rude antiquity, we hastened on to Newby-Park, the seat of the Right Hon. Weddell Robinson Lord Grantham; passing through Borough-Bridge, the Isurium Brigantum' of the Romans, and the scene of the battle between the forces of Edward II. and those of the confederated Barons in the year 1321, when the ill-starred Thomas of Lancaster was made prisoner. His execution at Pomfret speedily followed. An agreeable ride of three miles carried us from this place to his lordship's house, built of brick the beginning of the last century, situated on the eastern bank of the river Aire, in a fertile flat, surrounded by most agreeable pastoral and sylvan scenery. All without the house, the walks, and shrubberies, and avenues, are of a piece and congruous; and shew the correctness of that taste which is again discovered on a less scale, but in an equal degree, within the house, in die nature and arrangement of its ornaments. In the hall, exclusive of a fine organ, are—Agrand cattle-piece, with Cows and Sheep, by Rosa da Tivoli.—St. Margaret, by H. Carracci.—A large ​table, inlaid with one hundred and seventy-one specimens of ancient and modern marble; and two others of Egyptian granite. In the breakfast-room are the portraits of Thomas first Lord Grantham, grandfather of the present noble possessor;—of Thomas, his father;—and of the late William Weddell, esq; (painted at Rome) contemplating the statue of a dying Cleopatra; a subject that points out his classical turn, at the same time that his countenance marks a mind peculiarly adapted for the pursuit of every thing connected with elegance and taste, arts and letters.—Lady Grantham; grandmother to the present Lord.—The chimney and slab are formed from blocks of curious Egyptian granite. In the library are another portrait of the late Mr. Weddell, with a face pale, studious, and interesting; a fine table in Mosaic of different marbles; and a pamting of Apollo rewarding Poetry. The drawing-room (forty feet by twenty) is hung with the most exquisite specimens of Gobelin tapestry in Europe, and ornamented with two other fine tables of variegated marbles. The ante-chamber is singularly beautiful, chaste, and classical; fitted up with stuccoed Etruscan ornaments, and admirable chair-oscuras, in different ​compartments. The ground of the wall is a pale green, relieved by light purple mouldings. From hence we were led into the dining-room, sixty feet by twenty. This disproportioned length is corrected by semicircular recesses formed at each end with fluted Corinthian pillars. In the recess at the upper part are several large transparent alabaster vases standing upon pedestals, intended to receive candles, that may cast "a dim religious "light" over this apartment, and assist the magic effect with which the mind is impressed when we look through the door in the recess at the opposite extremity of the room. Here we throw a glance into the penetralia of the temple—the museum, or gallery of statues; a series of the most precious antique marbles which taste could select, and money procure. This repository consists of a suite of three small apartments; the first is square, the second a rotunda with a domed ceiling, and the third another square; a vista that is terminated by an antique sarcophagus, filling a recess at the end of the farthest apartment. All the rooms are finished with stuccoed ceilings, and basso relief walls; and the brightness of the Parian and Pentilican marbles is softened down by a pale strawberry ground. The statues are as follow. In the first apartment: ​Silenus; a short thick figure, conveying a good idea of the poetical character of this senex ebrius, this old sottish god. Under his right arm he carries a skin of wine, (called by the ancients the uterus) supporting its weight on his thigh.—A Ganymede, of modern statuary; small and beautiful, with the most happy delicacy in the limbs of the effeminate youth.—A vase, antique; supported by a lion's head and leg of ancient sculpture.—Septimius Severus, who died at York; an antique bust; the toga fastened upon the right shoulder with fibula. Much expression in the countenance, but the stiff and formal disposition of the front curls evinces that the piece was chiselled when statuary was in the wane.—A medallion of antique porphyry over it; Hercules, and another figure.—Geta, (whole figure, antique) the son of the Emperor Septimius Severus; with the scroll of admission into the senate in his hand, a bulla upon his breast, and clothed in the toga virilis. The whole of this is stiff.—Caracalla, Geta's brother; profligate and cruel; a large antique bust. A grand expression of fierceness and cruelty in the countenance, which exemplify the trux Caracalla of the historian. Over it, an antique medallion in porphyry, Two Fauns sacrificing.—An antique vase.—Galatea, the Nereid; antique; according to Homer, the daughter of Nereus and ​Doris; by her side a Cupid bestriding a Dolphin. One end of her mantle is tucked up under her right arm, the other is held above her head, out of which she is squeezing the water.—Epicurus, the celebrated philosopher, holding a scroll with both his hands; a very fine antique.—A Dacian King; a valuable antique. Small whole-length figure, composed of white and black marble; the hands and face of the former; the bonnet and rest of the figure of the latter. When we view this specimen of very ancient art, we cannot but be astonished that the sharp and minute parts which compose it should be in the most perfect preservation. An antique colossal head of Hercules; the expression solemn, majestic, and thoughtful; the beard supremely grand. It stands upon an antique three-faced altar, with figures on each front representing performers in the Dithyrambic rites; among which is an admirable female Bacchanalian maniac.—A small Muse, modern and beautiful; and under it an interesting little figure, a Girl bemoaning the loss of her Bird.—A medallion of antique porphry; groupe. In the vestibule to the second apartment, or rotunda, we find two antique vases of composition, ornamented with fancy patterns of the most beautiful design and workmanship. The rotunda contains: ​A female antique bust; unknown. The front hair thrown back carelessly and gracefully, and twisted up in a small roll at the back of the head; the left breast is bare, and the robe fastened over the right shoulder by a row of four fibulæ. There is much grace in the fashion of the dress, as well as beauty in the workmanship.—Brutus, the assassin of Cæsar; a full-length noble antique, naked figure. The face extremely thin; the expression of countenance penetrating and severe, but "more in sorrow than in anger." He grasps in his left hand the fatal dagger by the blow of which he sacrificed private friendship at the altar of public good. The statue stands upon an ancient circular altar.—A sitting Muse, antique; the drapery of which is very fine; a square antique altar supports her. A beautiful naked Venus, antique; of the same delicate workmanship, inimitable grace, and scientific proportions, as the celebrated statue de Medici. It is, indeed, the jewel of this collection; and said to have been bought at so high a price as induced Mr. Weddell to conceal from his friends the enormous expence in which this indulgence of his favourite propensity involved him. At her left side is the trunk of a tree, (for a supporter) and Cupid leaning upon it; fruits and flowers of the most admirable sculpture entwine the trunk, which is crowned ​by a large shell, another emblem of the goddess, in which she sailed to Cyprus: " Haec et coeruleis mecum consurgere digna " Fluctibus, et nostra potuit considere concha." Caligula; antique bust with a young face; for he was early made Imperator. The toga fastened with a fibula over the right shoulder.—An antique female bust, unknown.—Pallas; a fine antique, full length, as large as life, with the emblems both of learning and war; casque on her head, and an owl on her right hand. The Gorgon's head covers her breast, and a girdle of snakes passes under her left arm, and over her right shoulder. The expression of the countenance rather solemn than fierce. Faustina, the wife of Antoninus Pius; an whole length antique of extraordinary beauty. The posture graceful, easy, and natural; and the expression of the countenance serene and angelic, such as a Pagan might have thought she would have worn after her apotheosis—an honour which was conferred upon her by the senate when she died. The undulating stile of the hair shews the becoming fashion in which the Roman ladies dressed their heads in the time of the Antonines. A Jupiter; antique bust. The god of Virgil rather than Homer; serene and solemn. Profuse hair, flowing beard, and projecting eye-brows. ​An antique Term; the upper part female, with beautiful face, and wings on the shoulders; a cantharus in the right hand, and in the left four united torches inflamed, the emblems of the four elements.—Opposite to it is a Piping Boy, antique; standing on a small circular altar. In the further apartment, we find A Negro's Head, antique; black marble.—Augustus; an antique colossal bust; inelegant.—A small square sarcophagus with a moveable cover; elaborately sculptured with high relief.—A large ditto, ornamented in the same manner, representing Children at their sports.—A Dancing Faun; small whole length antique.—Colossal bust of Alexander; antique, with a casque upon the head; the hair uncommonly bold and free. It seems to have been the affectation of the hero himself, and of his admirers after him, to have representations of him made upon a gigantic scale; in order to impress upon posterity more forcibly the idea of his greatness; as if mental superiority were naturally associated with an extended form. A medallion of antique porphyry; Omphale, labouring under the club and lion's skin of Hercules. Apollo; an antique whole length statue; the god is resting himself against the trunk of a tree, after having destroyed the Python. This is a fine statue, ​to which we may very fairly apply the remarks of Winckleman. " His attitude speaks celestial grandeur; the elegant shape and turn of his; limbs seem to have been formed under a climate blessed with Elysian plains. His youth is the flower of eternal spring; a flower as incapable of acquiring, as it is of losing, any thing; perfect, tender, and sweet. Here we see nothing common to humanity; no nerves, no veins; a divine air diffuses itself over the surface of the figure." Bust of Pallas; antique. The head of white marble, the remaining part of Egyptian alabaster; deep yellow, and transparent.—Medallion of antique porphyry; Hercules contending with the Lyrnæan Lion.—Bacchus and a young Satyr. The god carries the emblematical poculum; his figure is graceful and elegant; the face animated.—An immense antique sarcophagus of veined marble, grey and white, capable of containing two hundred and fourteen gallons. Admirably preserved; the mouldings being as fine and sharp as if just chiselled. Its supporters are four lion's feet; and its ornaments four lions' faces.—A bust by Nollekens, the late Mr. Weddell; a countenance full of benevolence, mildness, humanity, and taste.—The small head of a dog, very fine; a copy from the great work of the celebrated Myron.—A Stork with a Serpent in ​his bill; antique; standing on a beautiful three-faced altar—the first front representing a trophæum; the second, Victory offering a chaplet with one hand, and bearing an olive-branch in the other; the third represents her seated, supported by her shield, and a hasta pura in her right hand.—A small bronze antique, Mercury; extremely fine.—Lucilla; antique colossal bust; the hair disposed in singular and formal curls. She was the daughter of the Emperor Antoninus, and wife of Lucius Verus.—A Sleeping Hermaphrodite; modern, but exquisitely beautiful.—A young antique Bacchus.—A medallion of antique porphyry. The stair-case, which is very elegant, afforded us two excellent reliefs—the triumph of Aurelian, and Brutus condemning his Son to death; an immense Sicilian jasper slab; two fine columns of curious marble; and a picture by Calebresi, Judith exposing the Head of Holofernes to the Jews. These, with two busts and a basso-relievo in the flower-garden lodge, finish the collection of antiques at Newby; which, it may be fairly said, is the most valuable and select of any in the kingdom of a similar extent, with the exception, perhaps, of Mr. Townley's superb museum. On our arrival at Ripon, we visited its church, to pay a parting tribute to the memory of the late ​Mr. Weddell, and heave a sigh over the monument of departed taste, urbanity, and benevolence. Under his marble bust is a tablet with the following inscription: " To the memory of WILLIAM WEDDELL, esq; of Newby, in whom every virtue that ennobles the mind was united with every elegance that adorns it, this Monument, a faint emblem of his refined taste, is dedicated by his Widow; Whom what awaits, while yet she strays Along the lonely vale of days? A pang, to secret sorrow dear A sigh an unavailing tear Till time shall every grief remove, With life, with memory, and with love. Obiit 1789." These beautiful lines, you know, are Gray's; but adopted with peculiar felicity by one who has never ceased to feel the severity of a loss as heavy as it is irremediable. The church is a long irregular pile, built at different periods. This is sufficiently evident in the choir, the north side of which is of Saxon, the other members of Gothic, architecture. Its remarkable ornament is a screen of most beautiful and tasteful work. An handsome obelisk in the spacious market-place of Ripon is a monument of the liberality of the late William Aislabie, esq; whose celebrated residence, Studley-Park, is only three miles from this town. ​To this place (which is one of the most perfect and correct specimens of the stile of gardening that succeeded the Dutch manner, and which, from its decorations, I would call the classical stile) we were conduced by a good private road, approaching the house through a long-drawn avenue finished at the further end by an obelisk, and letting in at the opposite termination a view of Ripon church; the two western towers of which are here seen to great advantage, assuming a very imposing appearance. The avenue is a mile in length, formed by noble trees, and therefore extremely grand of its kind; and if ever proper, as connected with any modern residence, would have been so here. But there are objections to 'it which no extent of dimensions can do away; radical faults, which never can be gotten over—the want of variety, and the appearance of art. An avenue only gives one confined picture to the eye, which is always before it, and never diversified. Imagination cannot create, because every thing is already defined; nor can fancy be gratified by interrupted appearances in the view, temporary concealments of objects, or new combinations of natural features. The regularity of the form also adds to the disappointment of the lively faculties of the mind; the operations of art are suggested to it, and these ​generally produce gloomy ideas, as connected with the exertion of thought, and the labour of the body. The general character of the grounds of Studley Park appeared to us to be highly favourable to the gardener to display his skill and taste upon, being moulded into pleasing hills and dales, and thickly clothed with noble timber—firs, elms, and oaks. Whether or not he have availed himself of these advantages, the following correct description of the decorations will enable you to judge. The house, a jumble of modern masonry, and the later Gothic, detained us only a few minutes, to regard the prospects, which are chiefly views of Ripon church, and other distant solitary objects, let in through avenues, and therefore objectionable, as having the appearance of pains being taken to produce them. From hence a path descended to the lower lake, which we took, and soon found ourselves on the velvet bank of a regular piece of water of eleven acres, deformed by a small island in its centre, with a large unintelligible stone perched upon it. Around this pond the banks rise rapidly on every side, darkened from top to bottom with majestic woods. From hence the circuit round the grounds is four miles, which includes all within them that is worthy remark. The first walk we entered is called the ​back walk, which opens a view to the left of the half-moon water, and the canal, (names expressive of their disgusting forms) backed by a proud bank of shade, out of whose bosom the upper members of a Gothic tower discover themselves. A cast from the antique, (two contending Gladiators) forms one of the ornaments of the little plat of turf on this side the canal; whilst to the right the eye is prevented from excursion by a lofty wooded bank, darkened with firs, the favourite tree of the spot, some of which are one hundred and eighteen feet high. Another opening, a little further on to the left, lets in a pretty Doric building, the temple of Piety, and a circular pond, under the tutelage of Neptune, whose figure is seen in the centre of it. The same grand back of wood as before frowns over its surface. The roar of an invisible cascade now excites attention, and we are prepared to see a body of water thrown down from a considerable height, and forcing an interrupted passage through opposing rocks; but, "parturiunt montes" the wished-for scene is opened, and on reaching the bath we discover a little formal fall, produced by the waters of the upper canal seeking to unite themselves with those of the lower. Two casts from the antique, a dying Gladiator, and Hercules and Antæus, introduce themselves into this picture. ​Pursuing the winding walk from the bath, we catch the head of the upper canal, a grotto shrouded with shrubs, within whose dark recess we see a cataract, the effect of which would be very good, were not the figure too formal, and the other contemptible fall of water visible. A vista now occurs, discovering the canal lengthwise, the other pools cut into a variety of mathematical forms; and three antique statues—a jumble of puerilities that we are hardly recompensed for by the lofty wood that hems in the whole scene, with its elegant Gothic tower. The next opening embraces a view of the lake, the canal, the groupe of Hercules and Antæus, the superb bank of wood, and the rotunda pushing its head above the shade, supported by eight Doric pillars; beneath which the eye reposes on a long extent of velvet sod, sprinkled with trees. Crossing the head of the canal, the path penetrates a gloomy recess towards the reservoir, where we catch to the right the Gothic seat, and to the left the prettiest feature of the grounds, a little wild scenery called Quebec; consisting of an irregular pool, with its own natural island in the centre, covered with wood. A pillar is here erected to the memory of General Wolfe, but happily for the picturesque effect, it has been long compleatly hidden by the trees. Reaching the Temple of Piety, ​so called from the story of the 'Grecian Daughter,' in basso relievo, we had, from its portico, all the elaborate ornaments which were already seen individually, thrown upon the eye together at once; the canal, temple, half-moon of water, statues, bath, &c. and beyond these a noble wooded bank, deserving better accompaniments. The path now quits the canal and dips into a wood, changing its name into that of the lower walk. Here a new feature is introduced- a rockybank, through which a subterraneous passage is cut, but without producing the usual effeft of these underground roads, as the light of the day is visible at the other extremity of it. Emerging from hence, we find ourselves in an open pasture of considerable extent, near the Gothic tower, whose platform commands some good sylvan scenery, disfigured, however, by an insignificant Chinese temple, and a tower. From the windows of the building we have different objects- the house, the lower water, an obelisk, banqueting-house, and canal. Pursuing a strait path through Minchistraw-grove, we experience for a few minutes that pleasure which is derived from contrast, by a little natural scenery, unexpectedly breaking in upon us; but the delusion is short, for at the termination of this grove the rotunda presents itself, and a bird's-eye ​view of all the artificial grounds, and their elaborate ornaments, which we have hitherto seen. Entering upon the rotunda walk, we direct our steps to the alcove, a seat with the same map-like view below it as before; the wood, however, in front investing itself with more majesty by the amphitheatrical form it here assumes. The Gothic seat is our next station, but before we reach it, a little opening at the corner of a walk admits a different sort of landscape to the eye—a fine valley, formed by high wooded banks, through which the river Shell leads his waters down a series of small cascades. All this opens more fully from the Gothic seat, with the addition of Fountain's Abbey, a glorious Gothic ruin, rising out of the meadow immediately in front of the station. For a moment we were imposed upon, by the surprise arising from such a magnificent object bursting upon the view unexpectedly; but as soon as judgment resumed its office, all pleasing emotions were destroyed, by the senseless incongruity and unnatural association in the scene before us. Instead of the wildness and desolation which Nature invariably throws around her ruins, the inevitable effects of neglect and desertion; here all is regularity and correctness, velvet lawns, mathematically formed gravel-walks, and artificial cascades; and no one feature to lead to ​appropriate contemplation, the recollection of extinguished grandeur, or the conviction of the evanescence of all human labour. Descending by the walk, called after Ann Bulleyn, we proceeded to the Abbey, along the banks of the reservoir, which is skirted to the right hand by a solemn line of spruce firs; the abbey still in front, but almost offending the eye by one broad uninterrupted view of its walls, in which is no partial concealment, no opportunity afforded for the creation of fancy; an effect that might easily have been produced by scattering a few trees over the carpet of sod before it, or hanging its walls with masses of ivy. Robin-Hood wood, into which we now enter, (so called from being the scene of the severe battle fought between that noted outlaw and a friar of Fountain-Abbey) exemplifies the truth of the above observation, by giving us the ruin through the trees to the right hand; which is thus rendered extremely grand, interesting, and picturesque. Its detail on approach is equally beautiful; the members being plain, uniform, and light; all built, probably, at the same time, about the beginning of the thirteenth century. We particularly admired the clustered pillars of the transept, which must have been, when perfect, surprisingly fine, ascending in slender shafts to the springing of the roof. At the eastern end ​of the choir stood the high altar, whose situation is marked by the remaining Mosaic pavement, on which it was placed. Taking a view of the interior from the extremity of the Lady's chapel, the vista is beautiful; a range of dilapidated building of the chastest Gothic, three hundred and sixty feet long, finely relieved with wood. At the termination of this, stands one of the towers, two of which formerly graced the western end. The northern one only remains, lifting its venerable head to the height of one hundred and seventy-four feet. This is divided into three parts by two bands or little projections of stone from its face, each inscribed with sentences that are now easily made out. They are as follow. —On the east side: Soli Deo Jhu. Xto. honor. et glia. in secla. sclor. On the west side: Agno Dei Jhu. Xto. honor, et glia. scla. sclor. On the upper band at the north side: Et virtus et fortitudo Deo nostro in secula seculorum. Amen. On the lower band same side: Soli Deo honor, et glia. secula seculorum. On the south side: Soli Deo honor, et glia. in secula seculorum. Amen.—A door leading out of the southern aile conducted us into the cloister-garden; the abbot's-garden; the magnificent chapter-house, originally divided by two ranges of pillars into a nave and side ailes; the extensive cloisters, three hundred feet long; ​and various other buildings in this noble abbey, which was founded in 1132 for Cistertian monks, and enjoyed a yearly revenue at the Dissolution of 1073l. 0s. 7½d. Quitting this ruin by the abbey-walk, we returned into the artificial grounds on the opposite side of the river Shell, with a fine mass of wood to the right, and a wall of shrubby rock on the left; presently ascending a rugged pathway to the higher walk, where a pleasing back view is afforded of the upper part of the abbey tower, its roots hidden by trees. We now enter upon the upper sandy-walk, and soon get another peep at our old acquaintance, Hercules and Antæus, the parallellogrammic canal, and the opposite bank of wood, with its buildings, the rotunda and Gothic tower; a picture again presented to us under a different combination, from the alcove above the sweep, with the addition of the Temple of Piety, prettily seen above the trees. The ladies' hill walk re-receives us from the alcove, appropriately ornamented with little plats of grass, and parterres of flowers; but not so delicately terminated by the walk of Priapus, a figure of which god occurs in the point where the two paths unite. The latter affords a peep at a very pleasing feature of country, a deep glen, called Kendal walk; dark and solemn, ​agreeably contrasting with the airy and fantastic scenes we have been wandering through; where (to use Hamlet's expression) we have all along "been too much i' the sun." From the opposite wooded terrace the god Pan just discloses his sylvan form. Descending to the banqueting-house, we find ourselves in an elegant stone building with emblematical sculptures on its face, and a pretty carpet of lawn before us. From hence the object has been to unite all the artificial ornaments of the place into one view; the Gothic tower, the pantheon, the temple, and the seat; which, crouding upon the eye all together, satiate and disgust, instead of affording pleasure. Here was the favourite retreat of the late Mr. Aislabie, who during the summer almost constantly ate his meals at the banqueting-house. A good figure of Venus de Medici stands within the grand apartment, but we were distressed at seeing so modest a lady cast in bronze. From hence, dropping down the well-walk, where no new features occur, we shortly perceived the point from which we had set out two hours before, having threaded all the principal mazes of these very elaborate pleasure-grounds. We had the pleasure of refreshing our eyes with some agreeable natural scenery, after all this ornamental gardening, in the picturesque village of ​Goffa, with its little roaring stream, and humble mill; which lies about two miles from Studley, in the way to Hackfall; and is, indeed, a direct and passable road both for horse or carriage to that place, notwithstanding the assertions of the Ripon innkeepers and post-boys, who (in order to employ their chaises) terrify the traveller with stories of ruts "unfathomably deep, beyond the reach of frost," Sorbonian bogs, and other unconquerable difficulties. Notwithstanding these representations, we ventured to take the shorter road to Hackfall, by which six miles were saved out of twelve; and were rewarded for our hardihood by a ride full of very agreeable scenery, which continued to spread itself before us till we reached this other celebrated place of Mr. Aislabie, where he seems to have followed the hints of his own taste, as much as he complied with the dictates of fashion in Studley-park. There is no house at Hackfall; but when the owner visited this spot, he occupied an apartment in the gardener's dwelling, a neat little cottage at the entrance of the grounds. Here, providing ourselves with a cicerone we were conducted through a small wicket, into a wild woodland dell, the bottom of which to the right is watered by a limpid brook, feasting the ear with its agreeable murmur, as it rolls over its pebbly ​bed. The very entrance into these grounds is marked by the finest touches of natural scenery, which instantly flashed upon the mind the superiority of these wild and artless features over elaborate and formal decoration. The path, following the brook that forms innumerable little falls in its course, which is almost impervious to the sun, conducted us to the summer-house, a seat erected opposite to a beautiful series of cascades, called the alum springs. These are three in number, tumling down the rough face of a rock, which struggles to make itself visible through a thick skreen of wood, into a brook sixty feet below the falls. From this point the dell grows still more wild, and the hills to the right more abrupt, the cascades more frequent, and the rocks more grotesque; forming a scene of abstraction perfectly answering the description of the poet's "Mansion of Contemptation:" " Here may she imp " Her eagle plumes; the poet here may hold " Sweet converse with his muse; the curious sage, " Who comments on great nature's ample tome, " May find that volume here. For here are caves " Where rise those gurgling fills, that sing the song " Which Contemplation loves; here shadowy glades, " Where through the trem'lous foliage darts the ray " That gilds the poet's day-dream." ​Proceeding onwards, the scene opens to the right, and lets in a lofty hill, an immense mass of wooded rock, whose point is crowned by a good ruined tower, called Mowbray-Castle, which, from its isolated situation, has an extremely happy effect. But this is speedily shut out from the eye by the thickening gloom around us, and all is close and quiet till we descend to the fisher's-hall, a little octagon room, constructed in the Gothic taste, of calcareous petrifactions, and opening a view unparalleled in its kind. Behind, every distant object is excluded by a mountainous bank of wood, except a pretty little ruin upon a point, and a narrow ribband of cascade falling down the rock. To the right, the brook, which we had been following, throws itself over a series of natural craggy steps; above this the august promontory on which Mowbray-Castle stands, rises to the height of six or seven hundred feet. Directing itself to the left', the eye catches another wooded hill, whose sides suddenly forming themselves into precipices present a long line of perpendicular rock; and at length uniting with the valley, are washed by the river Oure, who forces his impetuous course through it in a broad and winding stream, confined on both sides to his rocky bed by abrupt banks, clothed with venerable woods. ​The next object: is the grotto, approached by a devious path through the trees, and crossing a little torrent, that hurries from the left-hand hill to the bed of the river. Here the fancy is delighted by a noble flight of cascades, roaring down a steep declivity one hundred and fifty feet high; opposed on the other side by the aerial ruin on the summit of Mowbray point. A new and different scene now occurs, a little fairy spot of ground, sacred to stillness and retirement. This is a small verdant carpet of turf, terminated by the fountain-house, so called from its concealing the machinery of a jet d'eau, which throws a stream of water to the height of forty feet from the heart of an island in a pool to the left; an artificial littleness rather out of taste, as the opening to the right lets in one of the grandest scenes of Nature that the imagination can conceive. Here a long reach of the river Oure is beheld, rushing over its rugged bottom with uncontrolable fury; but lashing in vain the sides of its perpendicular rocky barrier, whose broad extent of uncovered face is happily contrasted by the solemn amphitheatrical crown of aged wood which waves to the wind far above the precipices. The tent walk shuts out for a short time, by the closeness of its shade, every distant object, and allows the mind a momentary repose, from the contemplation of such ​successive magnificent scenes, as almost tempt the exclamation of the poet, " Visions of glory, spare mine aching sight!" This sequestered sylvan scenery conducts to the tent, which gives name to the Arcadian spot through which we have passed; and here another view is let in of the mural rock, and its proud over-shadowing woods, that form the right-hand bank of the impetuous Oure, as well as a pretty pastoral picture of distant meads and rural dwellings. But soon the excursions of the eye are again precluded, by a darker shade, which grows around us as we descend through the coal-pit walk to the troubled waters of the river that has hitherto flowed below us. Here it unfolds a wider sweep to the visitor, stretching away both to the right and to the left; the former reach suddenly shut in by the bold promontory, crowned with Mowbray-Castle, whose face is overhung by a vast mass of calcareous incrustation, called the weeping rock, which, like the dripping-well at Knaresborough, distils with water that cases with a stony coat whatever is presented to its action. At this point the lower walks terminate, and we return towards the point from whence we set out, but by a new series of paths, which, managed with the utmost art and judgment, present a quick succession of different ​views. Climbing the limestone hill, we ascend through a plantation of fine half-grown oaks to a resting place, where the eye is refreshed with softened scenery, through a woody vista; a long and distant reach of the Oure, Masham's spired church, rich meadows, waving corn-fields, and neat farmhouses. A gentle declination conducts us from hence to the rock walk, taking its name from the right-hand boundary, formed by a sudden perpendicular rise of the rock on that side. From this hollow another undulation of the ground brings us to Holland hill, a wooded eminence, on whose summit is found the rustic temple—a little open octagonal shed, commanding a prospect that sweeps over a diameter of thirty miles, with a foreground of high rock and deep woods. Here the path again assumes a new name, and under the appellation of the quarry bank, ascends towards Mowbray point, catching in its way the spire of Masham, and a worsted manufactory. Near the summit of this elevation is perched a sentry-box, which gives a map-like view of the right and left reaches of the river, and its grand accompaniments; lets in Kedlington church, and an immense flat, studded with villages and towns, and only bounded by the dim descried Hamilton hills. Yet this is but tame and uniform, when compared with the grand and ​diversified picture which unfolds itself from the building called the point; whose foreground, a rapid river pent up between steep rocks, and midnight woods; middle distance, a wide sheet of inexhaustible fertility; and boundary, a long line of mountains; form a combination better imagined than described. Quitting this spot, we follow the new walk, which skirts the western side of the grounds, and admits, as we proceed, a pleasing peep to the left of the alum spring, seen now from above, and falling into the rock immediately under the eye, but losing much of its beauty and effect by the foreshortening. Here the entertainment is concluded; the walk pursuing its darkling course through a shady wood for a quarter of a mile, reaches the little wicket which admitted us into this enchanted region; a place of which it may be said, that Art has gone hand in hand with Nature, to unfold her beauties and heighten her attractions. Not considering her as a rival, she has kindly assisted her on her course, rather than jostled her out of it. Indeed, when we compare Hackfall with Studley, and recollect that both the places were laid out under the direction of the same gentleman, we are tempted to consider them as having been intended by their owner as contrasts to each other; as a sort of practical argument held out to the public, to convince ​them of the superiority of the natural style of gardening over the meretricious system, which in his days it was the fashion to adopt. On quitting Hackfall, we could not but wonder and regret, that there is no house upon or near its delicious grounds; that its beauties are seen by the eye, and walks trodden by the feet, of the stranger alone. A cross stony road led us through Masham to Bedale, eleven miles from Hackfall; on our way to which place, about four miles to the south of it, we took from an eminence a final view of that glorious part of Yorkshire over which our route had conducted us. Sorry as we were to bid a final adieu to it, we could not but allow that it made all the amends possible for its desertion, by throwing at once before our eyes such a boundless sheet of hill and dale, wood and rock, meadows and fields, houses, villages, and towns, as equally baffles the painter's pencil to delineate, or the tourist's pen to describe. Your's, &c. R. W. | ​ ITINERARY. Miles. From Bath to Glocester 38 Tewkesbury 10 Worcester 15 Bromsgrove 15 Hagley 7 Stourbridge 2 Dudley 4 Walsal 8 Lichfield 9 Burton 13 Derby 11 Ashbourne 13 Mapleton 3 Oakover 1 Dovedale and Islam, and back 10 Matlock 11 Chatsworth 9 Tideswell 10 Buxton 7 Castleton 12 Sheffield 16 Rotherham 6 Bank-top, by Lord Fitzwilliam's 12 Wentworth-Castle 33 ​ To Wakefield, through Barnsley 12 Leeds 9 Harewood 9 Harrowgate 8 Knaresborough 3 Borough-Bridge 7 Newby 3 Rippon 6 Studley 7 Hackfall 3 Masham 3 Bedale 6 Catterick-Bridge 8 Darlington 14 Bushford 9 Durham 9 Cocker 5 Lumley-Castle 3 Sunderland 9 Newcastle 13 381 |