Text by R. MURRAY GILCHRIST Pictures by E. W. HASLEHUST BLACKIE & SON LIMITED LONDON AND GLASGOW Blackie & Son Limited 50 Old Bailey, London 17 Stanhope Street, Glasgow Blackie & Son (India) Limited Warwick House, Fort Street, Bombay Blackie & Son (Canada) Limited Toronto Printed in Great Britain by Blackie & Son, Ltd., Glasgow...

In Peakland one marvels most at the strange variety of scenery—illustrations of all English inland beauty seem to have been grouped there for man’s delight. There are tender meadows, streams such as must have meandered through Arcady, fantastical hillocks, mountains that cut the skyline with dog-tooth edges, moors that change colour every day of the year; there are two of the most notable houses in existence—houses famous all over the civilized world—and two spas unlike each other and unlike any

It would be impossible to find two houses more dissimilar than Chatsworth and Haddon. Chatsworth is—although the building was begun as far back as 1687—comparatively modern of aspect; none would guess its age as more than fifty years. The stone is lightly coloured, the window frames are gilded, and in certain lights the Palace of the Peak suggests a well-preserved matron who intends always to guard carefully against any signs of the oncoming of age. It is tranquil and perhaps somnolent, a house

The best view of Haddon is to be gained from the road that runs from Rowsley to Bakewell. Shortly after crossing Fillyford Bridge one sees the towers rising above the tree-tops, harmonizing so well with their green setting that it is hard not to believe the house old as the landscape itself. The stonework is of a wonderful colour—a grey that changes with the seasons. It is warm and cheerful in summer; in winter I have seen it greenish as though covered with a thin moss. There is an ancient dove-

Eyam, known years ago as “the Athens of the Peak”, surpasses in literary interest any other part of the Peak Country. There, in the days of her youth, before it was her duty to “rock the cradle of her aged nursling”, as she piously calls her father, dwelt the bluestocking Anna Seward, who in later years won for herself the title of “Swan of Lichfield”. She was the rector’s daughter, and even in childhood must have been singularly wordy. Most readers will remember Scott’s confusion upon learning

Perhaps the most startling view in all Peakland is that from “Headstone Edge”—as oldfashioned countrymen call the place—at the curve of Monsal Dale. There, after leaving the dusty road and crossing a few yards of grassy waste, one looks down into the great valley, where the Wye runs tranquilly between broken-edged meadows, with abrupt hills on either side. A viaduct crosses the stream; to the left is a smooth lake with gleaming surface. A narrow path descends and runs alongside the bank until th

Sir Walter Scott never visited Peakland; therefore his descriptions are devoid of topographical value. In the period which he has chosen for his Peveril of the Peak the chief families of the district had degenerated into small squires who probably never stirred more than twenty miles from home in their lives. Castleton is oddly situated at the end of the Hope valley, where the great hills seem to bar all farther progress. Of old the only way of crossing these hills was by the “Winnats”, a romant

Kinderscout, which rises to a height of 2088 feet, is the loftiest Peakland mountain. This is best approached by way of the Ashop valley, a deep green hollow, sparsely wooded, that starts from the junction of the Ashop and the Derwent. On the hillsides are to be seen grey farmsteads as remotely situated as Wuthering Heights, and only reached by rough stony field tracks. In some places sledges are used instead of carts for the transport of hay and bracken. An old Roman road runs along the ridge t