comes within five inches of the surface of the water running under it. My guide then told me, that I was just two hundred and seven yards below the surface of the ground, and seven hundred and fifty yards from the first entrance into the rock, and there was no going any farther.

"Throughout the whole, I found the air very agreeable, and warm enough to bring on a moderate perspiration, although in less than a fortnight before, all the caverns beyond the first river (where I was ferried under the low arch) had been filled to a considerable height with water during a flood occasioned by long and continued rains."

Such are the wonders of this part of the kingdom, and the inspection of them affords high satisfaction. In penetrating, however, into these recesses of the earth, it is impossible wholly to divest the mind of unpleasant sensations. The idea of the ground falling in upon us, will obtrude itself at times in spite of our philosophy. To be instantaneously crushed to death, or to be condemned to the horrors of a lingering and agonizing dissolution by being entombed alive, are evils not to be contemplated even in apprehension, with composure and resignation. The possibility of such a dreadful accident crosses the brain with an inconceivable rapidity. But the recollection of the improbability of the event restores the mind to its accustomed serenity.

The cave of Virgil, into which he introduces Æneas by the aid of the Sybil, occurred to my

BERESFORD HALL.

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mind while exploring these awful excavations in the centre of our island. Indeed the description of the Mantuan bard powerfully struck me:

Spelunca alta fuit, vastoque immanis hiatu,

Scrupea tuta lacu nigro nemorumque tenebris!

From Buxton we, after breakfast, set out on our return, and directed our route towards Derby. We rode to Newhaven, and dined; it is only a single inn, about half way to Ashbourne. We were well entertained; and the good landlady behaved with uncommon civility. Of her I enquired about Beresford Hall, formerly the seat of Charles Cotton, Esq. the friend of honest ISAAC WALTON, (whom I have already mentioned in my account of Winchester) the father of anglers, and one of the best men of the age in which he lived. She informed me that it lay within three miles of the house; and away we rode to gratify an innocent curiosity.

We soon reached the spot, over which my imagination had often strayed with pleasure. The hall itself, now inhabited by a maiden lady, looks old and ruinous; and the adjoining garden exhibits a scene of desolation. Below the eminence on which it stands, through a sweet vale, runs the river Dove, famous for trout-fishing. Its gentle meanders heighten the beauty of the surrounding scenery; and I for some time gazed on its charms in silent admiration.

Well might Cotton, living on the spot, exclaim

226

WALTON'S FISHING-HOUSE.

O my beloved nymph-fair Dove!
Princess of rivers! how I love
Upon thy flow'ry banks to lie
And view thy silver stream,
When gilded by a summer's beam!
And in all that wanton fry

Playing at liberty:

And with my angle upon them
The all of treachery

I ever learnt industriously to try!

Hither it was, that the venerable Isaac Walton frequently came upwards of one hundred miles, that during the summer months he might, with his friend Cotton, enjoy the sport of angling! In return for these visits, Mr. Cotton built a small fishing-house, in a kind of peninsula, on the banks of the Dove, whose walls and covering only remain, and these I beheld with veneration.

Sir John Hawkins, in his edition of Walton's Complete Angler, gives two views of this curious fishing-house, and tells you, that he, several years ago, employed a person to visit it, and send him a description of it. From that account I extract the following paragraph, that you may form some idea of its former condition :

"It is of stone, and the room in the inside a cube of about fifteen feet; it is also paved with black and white marble. In the middle is a square black marble table, supported by two stone feet. The room is wainscotted with curious mouldings that divide the pannels up to the ceiling; in the larger pannels are represented in painting, some of the most pleasant of the adjacent scenes, with persons fishing; and in the smaller, the various

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227

sorts of tackle and implements used in angling. In the further corner on the left is a fire-place, with a chimney; and on the right a large beaufet with folding-doors, whereon are the portraits of Mr. Cotton and a boy servant, and Walton, in the dress of the times. Underneath is a cupboard, on the door of which are the figures of a TROUT, and also of a GRAYLING, well pourtrayed!"

But, my young friend, you will inquire after its present condition. I will inform you. Being erected in the year 1674, it has stood above a century, and having been taken little care of for some years past, it has fallen into decay. Here was, however, to be seen the CYPHER over the door, containing the initials of the names both of Cotton and Walton, interwoven in each other, and the inscription above it, SACRUM PISCATORIBUS, (sacred to fishermen,) half filled with moss, was almost obliterated. I clambered in through the window with difficulty; but of the interior decorations, alas! no traces were to be found. Looking round me with a melancholy pleasure, I mused on the interesting conversations which had taken place again and again within the walls of this forsaken mansion. Sad memorial of friendship! How evanescent are terrestrial enjoyments!

The person who went with us hither from the neighbouring village, told us that the little building was, in his remembrance, enriched with the above rural decorations; and that persons came even from Scotland to gratify their curiosity in the inspection of it. A new engraving of it may be seen

in a very beautiful edition of Walton's Angler, just published.*

It was in this little deserted temple of friendship, took place that pleasing dialogue found in the Contemplative Angler, respecting the formation of an artificial fly, which Gay has thus described with a moral annexed to it :

To the little animal provide

All the gay hues that wait on female pride:
Let nature guide thee; sometimes golden wire
The shining bellies of the fly require ;
The peacock's plumes thy tackle must uot fail,
Nor the dear purchase of the sable's tail;
Each gaudy bird some slender tribute brings,
And lends the growing insect proper wings;
Silks of all colours must their aid impart,
And ev'ry fur promote the fisher's art :
So the gay lady, with expensive care,
Borrows the pride of land, of sea, of air;

Furs, pearls, and plumes, the glittering thing displays,
Dazzles our eyes, and easy hearts betrays!

We now returned to our inn to dinner, where a trout and a grayling made a part of the repast; and we soon bid adieu to our good landlady. We rode on to Ashbourne, and remained there during the night.

Ashbourne is a town of some size, and contains many genteel families. The church is the only object worthy of attention. Here we found the beautiful monument raised by Sir Brooke Boothby

A most beautiful Edition of Walton's Complete Angler has been lately published by Mr. Bagster, a Bookseller, who held the memory of its venerable author in high estimation.