At Last The Funeral Service Commenced, And The Hymn
Being Given Out, They Set It To A Tune In The Minor Key, And I Never Heard
Any Music Performed In A Manner More Pathetic."
On Monday we left Edale, and a beautiful drive we had along the banks of
the Derwent, woody and rocky, and wild enough in some places to be thought
a river of our own country.
Of our visit to Chatsworth, the seat of the
Duke of Devonshire, one of the proudest of the modern English nobility,
and to Haddon Hall, the finest specimen remaining of the residences of
their ancestors, I will say nothing, for these have already been
described till people are tired of reading them. We passed the night at
Matlock in sight of the rock called the High Tor. In the hot season it
swarms with cockneys, and to gratify their taste, the place, beautiful as
it is with precipices and woods, has been spoiled by mock ruins and
fantastic names. There is a piece of scene-painting, for example, placed
conspicuously among the trees on the hill-side, representing an ancient
tower, and another representing an old church. One place of retreat is
called the Romantic Rocks, and another the Lover's Walk.
To-day we arrived at Derby, and hastened to see its Arboretum. This is an
inclosure of eleven acres, given by the late Mr. Josiah Strutt to the
town, and beautifully laid out by London, author of the work on Rural
Architecture.
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