Having ordered my trunk forward to Buxton by the coach, put a few books and a clean shirt in my pocket, I set out from Sheffield on a fine spring morning at five o'clock. The different points of view in which the town was presented, as I slowly ascended the hill, were very interesting ; and whilst I noticed the columns of smoke emerging from the chimneys, apparently in sufficient volume to hide the rays of the sun from the inhabitants, I could not but congratulate myself on breathing a purer atmosphere. By the time I reached Ringing-Low, (where the castellated appearance of the inn and toll-house would induce in a foreigner the supposition of its being an important barrier) I was prepared for breakfast, after which I continued my journey, entering immediately on

The East Moor,

Probably so called, from its forming the eastern boundary of Derbyshire. It is a rude and sterile tract of land, extending in a direction from North to South, for a very considerable distance-cold and forbidding in its appearance, and without a tree, a hedge, or bush, to break the monotony of the prospect. Yet it is not devoid of interest; nay, to me it possessed it in the highest degree. Composed of gently rounded hills, rising one behind another in many an interminable series, it produces a landscape soft in its gradations, and pleasing in its arrangement; while a tottering crag, or enormous stone, peering from the purple heath, and overtopped by a solitary mountain sheep, presents a foreground properly suited to such a scene.

To the East and South the prospect is indeed extensive. I knew not the names of the places which I saw. but I am informed that on a clear day, Sheffield, Rotherham, Chesterfield, Dronfield, and Holmsfield, are all in sight; while Wentworth House and Park, the tall spire of Laughton-le Morthen, and numerous villas and villages, conspired to form a scene which is but rarely surpassed; aud the calm solitude which reigned around me, gave a zest to the enjoyment of it, which it is not in the power of language to describe.

I know not how it is, (for I am not skilful in tracing effects to the causes which produce them) but wandering over these moors seemed to fill me with new energies, and raise me above myself.-Increased strength and elasticity pervaded my frame,-my ideas flowed more freely, and, as the prospect expanded before me, I enjoyed sensations, to which in a more cultivated but confined district, I am altogether a stranger; and could have exclaimed, in the language of Beattie,

"Hail awful scenes that calm the troubled breast,

And woo the weary to profound repose;

Can Passion's wildest uproar lay to rest,

And whisper comfort to the man of woes:

Here Innocence may wauder safe from foes,
And Contemplation soar on Seraph wing.

O Solitude, the man who thee forgoes,
When lucre lures him or ambition stings,

Shall never know the source whence real grandeur springs!"

This moor produces the bilberry, the clusterberry, the crowberry, and in

some places the cranberry. The two former afford a profitable employment in the season, for a number of poor women and children, who find a ready market for them in the neighbouring towns. These, with two of the ericas, were in bloom, and by the agreeable variety of their tints, enlivened the moor, and gave a richness and variety to the herbage. Here also are to be found barrows or lowes, (ancient places of sepulture) rocking stones, basons, and other Druidical remains. But I am not versed in the lore of antiquity, and the description of these relics of the times that are gone, is fitted for a stronger pen than mine.

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The hand of cultivation has been extended to these wastes, and in a few years will effect a considerable change in their appearance. Mr. Farey observes, "that every part of the Derbyshire hills might easily be clothed with grass or with timber and wood;" and that "finer plantations of larch and "Scotch firs need not be seen, than many that are intermixed with, and on "the very same stratum and soil, with these unproductive and very dis"graceful heaths or moors." As I continued my route I observed & new farm-house, at a little distance to the left of the road; it appeared surrounded with recent enclosures and plantations, and I hope that the proprietor will ultimately reap the reward of his praise-worthy exertions.

The road, on leaving the moor, winds for a short time through a wood; a hill rises abruptly on the left, and on the right is a deep valley, abounding with romantic scenery. A little further is a respectable inn, where a poor maniac has long been favoured with a residence. She posesses, I am told, more bodily strength, than is usually allotted to females, her appearance is rather masculine, and she is remarkable for regularly meeting the Manchester coach, which she accompanies for a short distance, singing or dancing in the most uncouth manner.

A little further is Grindleford Bridge, on which I rested, dwelling with admiration on the picturesque scenery of the valley. The bays and capes formed by the Derwent in its course, give it a wonderful variety, and the appearance of Chatsworth in the distance, adds to the richness of the scene. About two miles more brought me to

Stoney Middleton.

This little town is situated at the entrance of a narrow dale, formed by the apparent dislocation of a series of limestone rocks, which form on each side an almost perpendicular wall of enormous altitude. Some of the houses are in the bottom of the dale, others are built along the ledges of the rocks, almost to their very summit, formed of lime-stones, unhewn and unshapen, as when severed from the quarry.

An attempt has been made to convert Middleton into a bathing place, but hitherto with little success, for though the water of Saint Martin's well is highly medicinal, the forbidding aspect of the country, the manners of the inhabitants, the smoke of the limekilns, and the continual blasting of the rocks, render it a place totally unfit for the residence of an invalid.

Middleton Dale.

Some years ago this Dale must have been more beautiful than it is at present, for the last twenty years almost the whole of the labourers in

Middleton and Eyam have been employed in breaking down the rocks, burning them into lime, or carrying away the fragments to the foundries at Chesterfield; the upper part of the torrs only remain entire, and they present an exact appearance of a congeries of Saxon towers, in which the eye of fancy traces the mouldings, and even the marks of the chisel. Their summits, crowned with shrubs, or fringed with wall flowers, increase the deception, and in a mist, or on the close of evening, almost convince the spectator that he stands at the entrance of some giant's castle, whose frowning turrets seem to threaten him with instant destruction.

One of these rocks, at the foot of which stands a common pot-house, is called the Lover's Leap ;-a frightful precipice, of a height too great for me, unaccustomed to such measures, even to guess at. It is composed of two rocks, piled one upon another, the uppermost of which stands a few yards backward from the front of the lower one; each part abounds in fissures, and each is decorated with hazles, buckthorns, and other shrubs, which breaking the profile, take away the otherwise tame monotony of the rock, and render it an object at once interesting and picturesque.

This roek is one of the wonders of the village," and is, sure to be pointed out to the notice of a stranger. It has indeed a better title to the name it hears, than any other I have seen, or heard of since the days of Sappho, as the following narrative will prove, The accompanying sketch will give some idea of the place.

About 60 years ago, Hannah Baddeley, formed an attachment for a young man, who lodged in her master's house, in consequence of the attention he paid to her, and the professions of affection which he was constantly repeating. She believed him sincere, when alas! he was merely gallant; for it is not in towns only that beings in the shape of men, can trifle with the feelings, and sport with the affections of the fairer part of the creation: wherever duplicity may have had its origin, whether in the crowded city, or the secluded dale, we now too frequently meet with it in every situation, destroying alike the peace of the palace, and the cottage.

When Hannah found that she had been deceived, and that the same soft tale which Johnson had told to her, he had whispered to every damsel in the village, she lost all hope of earthly happiness, sunk into a state of settled melancholy, and seemed fast hastening to her grave, stricken at the heart, and pining away with secret sorrow. But life had become a burthen to her, and the course of nature far too slow in taking off the load. She left her sleepless bed early one summer's morning, and gained the top of the rock, I have been describing, which is level, or nearly so, with the surface of a large pasture, then divesting herself of her bonnet, her cap, and handkerchief, she laid them on the brow, and, with all her force, threw herself down the frightful precipice, iu hopes to finish her woes and her life together. But by a singular interposition of Providence, she was not permitted to commit suicide. Some of the shrubs, which jut out of the rock, entangling her clothes, broke the force of her fall, by supporting her till her garments gave way, and dropt her gently on another tuft; in this manner she proceeded to the bottom where a saw-pit, partly filled with saw-dust from recent working, received her, almost withont a bruise! Here she lay, exhausted with what she had undergone, and unable, from weakness, to crawl out, till the workmen coming to their employment, raised her up, and she walked home without help.