We Walked Through A Wretched Little Village,
Consisting Of Low Cottages Built Of Stone, One Or Two Of Which Were
Alehouses; passed the parsonage, pleasantly situated on the edge of a
little brook, and then the parson himself, a young
Man just from
Cambridge, who was occupied in sketching one of the picturesque points in
the scenery about his new habitation. A few minutes active climbing
brought us among the heath, formming a thick elastic carpet under our
feet, on which we were glad to seat ourselves for a moment's rest. We
heard the cuckoo upon every side, and when we rose to pursue our walk we
frequently startled the moor-fowl, singly or in flocks. The time allowed
by the game laws for shooting them had not yet arrived, but in the mean
time they had been unmercifully hunted by the hawks, for we often found
the remains of such as had been slain by these winged sportsmen, lying in
our path as we ascended. We found on the top of the hill, a level of
several rods in width, covered to a considerable depth with peat, the
produce of the decayed roots of the heath, which has sprung and perished
for centuries. It was now soft with the abundant rains which had fallen,
and seamed with deep muddy cracks, over which we made our way with
difficulty. At length we came to a spot from which we could look down into
another valley. "That," said our host, "is the Woodlands." We looked and
saw a green hollow among the hills like Edale, but still more bare of
trees, though like Edale it had its little stream at the bottom.
The next day we crossed the Mam Tor a second time, on a visit to the
Derbyshire mines. On our way, I heard the lark for the first time. The
little bird, so frequently named in English poetry, rose singing from the
grass almost perpendicularly, until nearly lost to the sight in the
clouds, floated away, first in one direction, then in another, descended
towards the earth, arose again, pouring forth a perpetual, uninterrupted
stream of melody, until at length, after the space of somewhat more than a
quarter of an hour, he reached the ground, and closed his flight and his
song together. The caverns which contain the Derbyshire spars of various
kinds, have been the frequent theme of tourists, and it is hardly worth
while to describe them for the thousandth time. Imagine a fissure in the
limestone rock, descending obliquely five hundred feet into the bowels of
the earth, with a floor of fallen fragments of rock and sand; jagged
walls, which seem as if they would fit closely into each other if they
could be brought together, sheeted, in many places, with a glittering,
calcareous deposit, and gradually approaching each other overhead - imagine
this, and you will have an idea of the Blue John mine, into which we
descended. The fluor-spar taken from this mine is of a rich blue color,
and is wrought into vases and cups, which were extremely beautiful.
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