MR. JENNINGS'S RAMBLES.* Tim delights of home-travel are keenly felt
by Mr. Jennings A pleasanter companion in summer-time than his Field Paths and Green Lanes it would be difficult to find, and the delightful country flavour of that volume is conspicuous also in these Rambles among the Hills. The writer makes no preten- sions. He is neither an antiquarian, nor a geolOgist, nor a botanist; he is not a social reformer, neither is ho, like Cobbett, a peripatetic politician. His aim is to enjoy what is enjoyable in this beautiful island, rather than to cor- rect what is wrong ; and if ho occasionally sees indications of unsoundness " iu the State of Denmark," he does not care to dwell upon them. His true enjoyment is in rambling in country byways and amidst lonely hills, in talking to rustics at their work, in taking his homely meals at wayside inns, in listening to the song of birds, and iu striking across country, with a contempt for the obstacles which daunt Cockney tourists.
Civilisation and over-population have not yet destroyed—and let us hope they never will—the beauty of English scenery ; the pedestrian who loves solitude need not go far from London to find it,—and he will find, too, especially in the unfrequented tracks of Sussex, much that is quaint and primitive in the habits of the people :—•
" There are many strange people and odd scenes to be met with in Eugland," says Mr. Jennings, " if a man goes about keeping his eyes open for them, and is prepared to enter into the spirit of the thing when accident throws thorn in his way. As for the beauty of this little country—for we must all confess it is not large—no one will over be capable of doing justice to it. Its endless variety astonishes me more, the more I see of it ; travel as much as one may, there is always a pleasant surprise in store,—a landscape more strik- ing than we have previously met with, fields and hills more exquisitely grouped, nobler and finer trees, or a view which somehow finds its way more directly to the heart. I do not believe there is any man alive who can say with truth that ho has seen England thoroughly. One may have lived in ranch larger countries, it is true, bat there are none which it takes so long to got tired of as England."
The main drawbacks to English travel are the high charges of the hotels, and the fitfulness of the weather. The first of these drawbacks is not so serious, when the pedestrian leaves the beaten track of tourists ; and Mr. Jennings says truly that it is a waste of time to pay any attention to weather in England, —" one has only to go ou."
Chatsworth, the most popular spot in Derbyshire, is the traveller's starting-point for his rambles iu the famous Peak district, which, if we may trust the writer, is more famous than known. Who does not remember with pleasure the pretty. model village of Edensor, and the comfortable Chats- worth Hotel, the cosiest and most home-like in all the county Of Chatsworth itself, Mr. Jennings does not say much, for he hates " lions ;" but he had the privi- lege, rarely awarded to visitors, of seeing the noble library, which contains, among other priceless treasures, the original " Liber Veritatis" of Claude. Tourists are well treated at Chats- worth, and repay the Duke's liberality in English fashion :— " It cannot be said that the Duke of Devonshire is niggardly towards the public, nor are they wanting iu generosity towards him in return, for, before going away, they invariably make him a present of all their sandwich-papers and empty bottles and are careful to place them where there is no danger of their being overlooked." The excursionists who " do " Chatsworth know but little of the loveliness which lies open to them and all the world iu the immediate neighbourhood of the Palace. It is this beauty which allures Mr. Jennings, and of a certain wood he writes with the passion of a lover :—
" I made towards the wood at the back of the ' Palace of the Peak,' and stood under the shelter of a noble beech during a heavy shower, and watched the storm sweep by. Presently there appeared a bit of blue sky, no bigger than one's hand ; it spread gradually over the heavens, and in the course of a few minutes the sun's beams strug- gled through the lovely foliage, making golden patches among the bluebells and ferns, and causing the long grass to sparkle, as if all the diamonds of Brazil had been scattered over it. The notes of the thrush soon thrilled in the air, a cock pheasant stepped out proudly from the recesses of the wood, a squirrel darted * Rambles among the Mlle in the Peak of Derbyshire and the South Downs. By Louis J. Jennings, With Illustrations. London: John Murray. 1880.
up a neighbouring tree, and a rabbit came bustling out of the ferns to see what was the matter, The cluads had passed away, and the world smiled once more. Very soon had I climbed the hill, and wandered to the right ou the edge of the wood, over a carpet of the softest moss. This is one of the most delightful woods to be seen in all England, especially in June, when the rhodo- dendrons flame all across its dark places, and the ground is blue with wild hyacinths. There is a broad green path in the heart of the wood, and another on its brow, and from the latter there is a charming view of the Park, and far away over other woods, brown moors, and distant hills. Towards the end of this path, some patriarchal oaks begin to make their appearance, and then a whole army comes in sight, en army which boars many signs of rough warfare upon it, but still presents an imposing front."
Mr. Jennings does not indulge much in these descriptions, which, unless in the hands of a master, so often prove weari- some ; but when he does describe a beautiful scone, it is in words which enable a reader to see the landscape and to enjoy the beauty. His gossip with villagers and wayfarers is charac- teristic alike of the people and of the writer, whose sense of humour constantly finds something to feed it. His rambles lead him to familiar places, as well as to spots that are com- paratively unknown. He visits Haddon Hall, " of which there is nothing to be said which has not been said ten thousand times before." He visits Eyam, a somewhat melancholy village, but famous for all time in English story as the scene of a clergyman's unparalleled heroism during the year of the Great Plague ; he visits Bakewell, once beloved of anglers, but now deserted by the fraternity, for the fish are gone; and after passing through Mensal Dale, which he says, and rightly, is one of the prettiest of all the numerous dales in Derbyshire," he even lingers for a moment at Buxton, the most fashiohable of Derbyshire watering-places. Of course, too, he made his way to Axe Edge and the " Cat and riddle," where, indeed, he had hoped to find quarters for a day or two; but this was impossible, for the landlord, having to stow away twelve persons in four bedrooms, had no room for guests. Mr. Jennings, as we have said, does not always disdain sight-seeing, and lie devotes several pages to Hardwick° Hall and Bolsover Castle. On some book- shelves at Hardwicke he found the first English edition of Vatlic1, and, on a table, a kitchen for a child, the pots, pans, and other utensils being of silver, exquisitely made. "I should like," says the writer, " to have stopped a,few minutes and played with them myself, but the young woman who acted as guide whisked me through the room at a break-neck pace. When she saw me looking at the books, she tapped impatiently with her foot ; but I recommended her to read Vathek, and if ehe did so, I am sure that by this time she has forgiven me."
Hardwick° is troubled with poachers, and Bolsover with ghosts. In the castle there is a bedroom called " Hell," and another called " Heaven." In all the rooms there was some- thing eerie, which filled the visitor with a strange feeling lie had never experienced within any walls before, The old woman who acted as guide explained the mystery, by saying that the castle is haunted, and that she had several times seen a lady and gentleman "come like a flash." " When I have been sitting in the kitchen, not thinking of any such thing, they stood there,—the gentleman with ruffles on, the lady with a scarf round her waist. I never believed in glitsts, but I have seen them. I am used to it now, and don't mind it. But we do not like the noises, because they disturb us."
Let no one go to Matlock Bath, who loves Nature, and feels her " breeze " stirring in his soul,—" For most of the scenery round Matlock, as at Niagara, is let out at so much a yard, and the stranger cannot go far without being called upon to stand and deliver." It is, no doubt, an exquisite spot, utterly and irretrievably injured by the "ill conditions" with which it is troubled. Extortion and vulgarity besiege and annoy the tourist at every step, and he is glad to escape from it as quickly as he can. Mr. Jennings grumbles with perhaps less reason at Dove Dale, the beauty of which has been over-rated, and greatly prefers the less known Vale of Beresford, perhaps because it is less known. In his judgment, the finest view in Derbyshire, and perhaps in England, is from the summit of the mountain opposite the village of Edale ;—" Fresh," he writes, "from a visit to Switzerland, it seemed to me that I had seen nothing
there more beautiful and attractive If the Kindcracout range were in S witzerland, scores of books would h ave been written about it, and ' Sanatoria' without number would have been estab- lished on its hill-sides. As it is, not a dozen tourists thoroughly explore the Peak in the course of as many years." Mr. Jennings gives so graphic an account of that noble and un- traversed range of hills, that the reader will be apt to sigh for
summer and for leisure, that he may follow in his footsteps. Still more attractive in the brightness of a July sun is the far- famed forest of Sherwood, which, though much diminished in size, is still famous for its grand old oaks and silver birches. The finest oaks are said to be in the park of Thoresby House, one of the three mansions known as the "Dukeries," and " the domain of Thoresby, taken altogether, com- prises by far the most attractive part of Sherwood." Wel- beck, another of the " Dukeries," the property of the late eccentric Duke of Portland, is described with some minute- ness. The costly and egregious folly of this nobleman could scarcely be surpassed. His ruling passion was to build any- where, but chiefly underground; and the author was told on good authority that he spent £2,000,000 at Welbeck on tunnels,. underground chambers, and other works. There is a ball-room built entirely underground, a chapel, conservatories, and skating-rinks, access to which is by lifts; and a riding-school, lit by over 7,000 gas-jets, and ornamented in the most extrava- gant manner. " It is like a palace, and the man who built it scarcely ever entered its doors. Close by is another marvellous place—' The Gallop '—all under glass, built at an enormous cost. The tan was always carefully raked over and watered every day, as if the Duke might at any moment come to ride in it, and yet he never crossed a horse for many years before he died." Most men, Mr. Jennings adds pertinently, get some pleasure out of the money they spend ; but what did he get P He was not even popular with his workmen, for they felt that their labour was thrown away.
The portion of the volume devoted to Sussex and the South Downs is highly interesting, and the accuracy of Mr. Jennings's descriptions is as noteworthy as their liveliness. Cowper said. he was appalled at the tremendous height of the Sussex Downs; the traveller hitherto unacquainted with this noble range of hills is more likely to be surprised at their loveliness. And this beauty, so characteristic in feature and so little known to excur- sionists, lies almost at our door. A word of praise must be given, before we close the volume, to Mr. Hallam Murray's illustra- tions, They not only fulfil exactly the purpose of illustrations,. making the writer's text more attractive and intelligible, but they do this with a taste and feeling which show that the artist, like the author, has a keen perception of natural beauty.
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