of the celebrated Sir Richard Arkwright. A cotton-mill has been erected here by him, which gives employment to nearly two hundred hands.

In May, 1736, a large quantity of Roman coins were dug up near this place. They were chiefly of the first emperors, and were in good preservation.

Carrying your eye still in a south-east direction, you will observe Ashbourn, and Dovedale-with a short notice of these places, I shall conclude this letter-my next, I intend, shall be dated from Birmingham, at which place I must arrive before the 21st inst.

ASHBOURN is a town of considerable extent and population; it is seated near the borders of Staffordshire, on a small river, which soon after falls into the Dove-its chief trade is in butter and cheese, large quantities of which it sends, both up and down the Trent. The family of the Cockaynes flourished here a long time.

At about three miles from Ashbourn, lies the celebrated valley, called DOVEDALE. It is about two miles in length; a deep, narrow, hollow glen: both sides are of rock; and the Dove, in its passage between them, is perpetually changing its course, its motion, and appearance. It is never less than ten, nor so much as twenty yards wide, and generally about four feet deep; it is transparent to the bottom, except when it is covered with a white foam, under water-falls which are perfectly lucid. These are very numerous. In some places they

stretch strait across, or aslant the streams, in others they are only partial: and the water either dashes against the stones, and leaps over them, or, pouring along a steep, rebounds upon those below. In one spot, the valley, almost closing, leaves hardly a passage for the river, which, pent up, and struggling for a vent, roars and foams till it has extricated itself from the confinement. In other parts the stream is gentle, flows round a little desert island, bubbles about a water-dock, or plays with the aquatic plants which float upon the surface. The rocks vary as often in their structure as the stream in its motion. In one place, an extended surface gradually diminishes from a broad base almost to an edge; in another, a heavy top, hanging forwards, overshadows all beneath : sometimes many different shapes are confusedly tumbled together; and sometimes they are broken into slender sharp pinnacles, which rise upright, often two or three together, and often in more numerous clusters. The rocks never continue long in the same figure or situation, and are very much separated from each other. Sometimes they form the sides of the valley, in precipices, in steeps, or in stages; sometimes they seem to rise in the bottom, and lean back against the hill; and sometimes they stand out quite detached, heaving up in cumbrous piles, or starting into conical shapes, like vast spars, an hundred feet high; some are firm and solid throughout; some are cracked; and some, split and undermined, are wonderfully up

held by fragments, apparently unequal to the weight they sustain. The breadth of the valley is never the same forty yards together. At the narrow pass which has been mentioned, the rocks almost meet at the top, and the sky is seen, as through a chink, between them: just by this gloomy abyss is a wider opening, more light, more verdure, more cheerfulness than any where else in the dale.

This is the language of Mr. Wheatley-another describer has added such particulars as these:Entering the valley near a high hill, called Thorpe-cloud, you find, on the right hand, many craggy rocks placed one on another to a vast height, and, on the left, a steep and almost perpendicular ascent, finely covered with wood and herbage.

"After proceeding nearly a mile up the vale, you see a fine natural arch, about 40 feet high, and 18 wide, in a chain of rocks which extends along the edge of a high precipice, but so entirely detached from it, as to have all the appearance of a strong massy wall formed by human hands.

"At a small distance beyond this arch, in the midst of woody scenery, arises a grand solitary pointed rock, which, by way of eminence, is called Dovedale Church. Its appearance is peculiarly striking and sublime."

The alarms of war have reached even the secluded vales of Derbyshire-the imperious necessity which the times impose of covering our

shores with defenders, is felt from the extremities to the very heart of the country; and, not only do towns and villages pour forth their hundreds or their thousands to the general aggregate, but individual landlords and manufacturers arm a portion of their tenantry or their workmen in the grand cause. Drums and fifes are now frequently breaking the silence of these delightful retreats-and almost every day we see the hatters of Lea-wood marching and counter-marching; and using every means to prepare themselves for a struggle, which, I trust, will, after all, never take place. It is truly cheering to witness the amor patriæ thus running from breast to breast-but it is also an awful sight. One cannot help weeping over that strange infatuation that makes creatures who call themselves rational, almost in love with deeds of "violence and wrong." Merciful God! Father of the universe, and author of all good! when shall these times of ignorance and barbarity terminate! When shall the Heavenly Dove hover, with prevailing energy, over a distracted world-hush every tumult to peace, and banish from the hearts of thy children even the remembrance of hostility! To you, my friend, I make no apology for the introduction of such sentiments as these-I am sure your feelings in this case are in exact unison with mine. Once more farewell.

LETTER XI.

Birmingham, August 26, 1805.

MY DEAR MADAM,

THE "Toyshop of Europe," as it has been styled, is the place from which I now address you. Our journey from Lea-wood hither was pleasant, and interrupted by no accident-this letter, and perhaps another, will be dedicated to an account of the places through which we passed. What an emblem of human life is a journey! We enter a succession of places, one after another-we stay a while, look about us, and pass on—in a majority of these places, no trace of our ever having visited them remains, and, in a little time, those that knew the most of us, know us no more.

We quitted Lea-wood early in the morningas we passed through Cromford the factory bell was ringing its morning summons, and a great number of young persons of both sexes were bending their steps to the scene of their daily labours.

A great variety was visible in the looks and the dress of the several individuals-some were tripping along with cheerfulness and vivacity, they were evidently the children of industry; and the superior neatness of their attire, and liveliness of