the pack laid on. Now the strife begins, not perhaps to end until a good fifteen or twenty miles has been put between us and Haddon. Then will he take soil in some rough, rugged stream, and exercise all his ingenuity therein to baffle the hounds, which, however, are too good and true to be thrown out. Anon we see him swimming in some large and deep pool, the stream in which is so sluggish and dark that it betokens an almost unfathomable depth; the abrupt rocks on the other side prevent the hounds from nearing him; but further down, and wherever a hound can approach, are they found baying and making the welkin ring with their music. After a time he is driven from his fastness, and presently we see him standing on some rugged rock, with the stream foaming in torrents around him, and here and there a young hound dropping down with the current, vainly hoping to come in with him; but he is too much for them singly, and the pack cannot, indeed the old hounds will not, now approach him, knowing full well his power in the water. And now the huntsmen exert themselves with the lasso; and sometimes, but not without danger, will they seize him by his antlers, when a desperate struggle ensues, but numbers must conquer him, and soon he is laid on the bank, when, if he is in good condition, he is killed and broken up; and happy he who obtains his merited slot. It is really an exciting, glorious sport, and one that ought to be well supported. Long ere the finale has the "Haddon halloa been forgotten, and it is not until entering Dulverton late in the day that we are reminded of it, when we meet, perchance, the very fellow whose stentorian lungs well nigh deafened us in the morning, who, with the utmost eagerness, rushes up and asks "Have 'e killed un, zur?" and on hearing the result, shouts for joy, and rushes off to the Red-Lion, or the nearest ale-house, to communicate this most important intelligence, and to drink success to stagbunting. August 23rd, 1849. ANGLING IN THE RIVERS OF DERBYSHIRE. BY R. B This is a first-rate English county for angling. The hilly nature of the country gives rise to rapid and limpid waters, and these are the true elements for the salmon and trout. Fine and bold scenery is also a necessary accompaniment of this physical elevation; and we accordingly find that all authors on angling, who have visited this part of England, speak in the most rapturous terms of the beautiful views to be witnessed on the banks of nearly all the rivers in this county. The principal of these are the Trent, the Erwash, the Blyth, the Tame, the Dove, the Manifold, the Derwent, and the Wye. The Trent we shall pass over as an angling river, particularly in this locality, where it presents many features which are opposed to the standard maxims of the piscatory art. The Erwash takes its rise from near Mansfield, and in its course divides the counties of Derby and Nottingham. It falls into the Trent a little below Shardlowbridge. The higher parts of this stream are the best adapted for the fly; though the trout are generally considerably smaller than in those parts of its waters which are situated a little above its junction with the Trent. Middle-sized winged flies are the best suited to this river, and seem to be preferred to hackles or palmers. In its deep waters fine large trout are occasionally caught with minnow, after a summer fresh. The Blyth takes its origin a few miles eastward from the Trent, which it falls into at King's Bromley. It is a good stream, even of itself, and it improves after having received the waters of the Soar, from Eccleshall, and the Peak, from Penkridge. The trout are not, however, of a very rich flavour. I saw one of three pounds and a half, which cut up very white indeed, though this was in the month of June. The Tame comes from near Coleshill, in Warwickshire, and joins the Trent above Burton. There are fine trout streams in the Tame; and when the season is not too dry, or too far advanced, fair sport may be anticipated. The minnow does some execution here, after a summer fresh, just when the waters are assuming a fine ale colour. The starling and woodcock's wing, and red-body, are good flies. The Dove springs from the Peak of Derbyshire, and divides this country from Staffordshire. It has been deservedly celebrated by Walton and Cotton, who were frequently in the habit of roaming along its very picturesque banks. The latter ingenious and enthusiastic angler has the following lines on this river:— "Such streams Rome's yellow Tiber cannot show, The Iberian Tagus, or Ligurian Po; The Meuse, the Danube, and the Rhine, Are puddle-waters, all compared with thine; The rapid Garonne, and the winding Seine, Beloved Dove, with thee To vie priority; May Tame and Isis, when conjoined, submit, And lay their trophies at thy silver feet." The river Dove, take it as a whole, is one of the most beautiful and interesting pieces of water that can be found in any country. The charms of its landscapes are quite ravishing and extatic. When we pass along the comparatively naked portion of the stream, we feel delight from the sweet music of its tumbling streams, and the rushing brilliancy of their course. Here and there we have long glassy sheets or pools; in which every thing is reflected with remarkable distinctness and correctness of outline. Now, again, we have rapid, rushing, boisterous, and impetuous streams, dashing against some huge rocks, grotesquely scattered over its bed, and which support, in divers places, the ash, the slender willow, and the birch. These are seen occasionally ornamented with festoons of honeysuckles and wild roses, which ofttimes dip their beauties in the rippling and transparent waters. Every thing has a seductive and fairy charm about it. The huge blocks of stone covered with the moss of ages, the bubbling and boiling eddies of the waters, the aquatic plants and flowers every way profusely strewed on the edges of the stream, added to which the solemnity and silence of all around, impart to the mind of the angler some of those delicious trains of thought, which all who have practised his admirable art, and have been able to give utterance to their inward thoughts, have uniformly attributed to heart-stirring and innate power of his fascinating and contemplative recreation. The Dove abounds with graylings, both of excellent quality and large size. Some have been taken four pounds in weight. Hackles and palmer flies are the best for this river, especially in summer. In the spring, from March to the end of April, winged flies are very suitable. The town of Ashbourn is pleasantly situated on the left bank of the Dove, and commands a fine view of the valley, through which it flows, and which presents some of the most luxuriant meadows in the kingdom. This town was the scene of some of the contests between Charles I. and his Parliament. Dove-dale has been, from time immemorial, a subject of admiration and eulogy among all lovers of fine scenery. The river Dove springs out of Axe Edge, one of the lofty range of hills on the north-west border of Derbyshire. From its source to its entrance into the Trent it forms the boundary line between this county and Staffordshire. For some distance from its rise the stream presents a winding and circuitous route over a limestone stratum and that portion of the county which is properly called Dove-dale, to a space of little more than two miles, lying about four miles north-west of Ashbourn. If we enter the Dale by the north of Thorpe Cloud, a lofty hill, with an interesting-looking village at its base, we shall obtain some delightful views of the county. There is a singular character of wild simplicity about it, which makes a deep impression on the feelings, and brings up to the surface the contemplative and reflective powers, those vague and shadowy abstractions which most men have of vacuity and chaos. We stand and gaze, without almost the faculty of either utterance or active thought. After, however, the first sensation is past, we begin to scan the landscape, as it were, by piece-meal, and to detect and define the individual beauties of which the whole is composed. The mind fixes itself upon patches of furze and aged thorns, scattered over the edges of the Dale, and then traces out the glassy stream as it meanders through the naked and desolate-looking scene. As we move forward, the Dale assumes a deeper and more concentrated aspect, and appears completely hemmed in near a locality called Sharplow, which rises very abruptly from the edge of the waters. Here the stream becomes extremely imposing. On the left of the river groups of naked and pinnacled-shaped rocks, shivered as it were into a thousand blocks by the lightnings of heaven, lie scattered about in every direction, and in every fantastical and conceivable position. Here and there their naked and cold surfaces are clad with ivy and lichens, the emblems of past ages and ancient days. Turning round to the right, these mighty masses of rock take a circular sweep, and arrange themselves in a bold, lofty, and continuous pile; and on their extreme edges and jutting peaks, various mountain shrubs spread forth their branches, as if to give a nodding recognition of welcome to the admiring traveller. The yew tree and the wild pear conspicuously attract attention; the former of which reminds one, by various mental associations, of the decay of nature, and the end of our own fleeting and transitory existence. Leaving this spot we turn down a foot-path thickly studded with old thorn bushes, ash, and underwood of various kinds; passing on the right a conspicuous-looking cluster of rocks, called Tissington Spires, which run a considerable distance up the Dale side, forming narrow ravines, which give a remarkable sombre cast to the whole scene. On the opposite side of the river the eye is arrested by the singular looking pile called Dove-dale church, which is by no means an inappropriate designation, inasmuch as the general feature presents the outlines of such a holy sanctuary. Here local tradition is fertile on the supernatural appearances which have, from time immemorial, been witnessed in this portion of the Dale. We have numerous accounts of the return of murdered spirits, and of other strange sights; the only testimonies of the scenes of conflicts and barbarity which, in former ages, were, in all probability, perpetrated in these dark and inhospitable wilds. A few hundred yards more in a forward direction brings us to a place called Reynard's Cave, which we approach by a naturally formed archway of rocks, about twenty feet wide, and nearly double the height; constituting a regular perforation of the solid mass of stone. The appearance of this archway is singular, and in passing through it the mind feels a train of odd sensations and reflections. We are ushered into what are termed "Reynard's Hall" and "Reynard's Kitchen," both of which are terminated by narrow and impassable rents or fissures. The peep down the river is romantic and imposing; particularly where its waters play around the two small verdant islands which obstruct its bed, and break the rapid current of its streams. among When we come to "Ham Stone" or "The Pickering Tor," we obtain another very interesting view of Dove-dale. This bold rock rises perpendicularly from the edge of the river; and if we cast a glance on the opposite or Derbyshire side, we recognize a remarkable cluster of rocks, with irregular surfaces, and somewhat coned-shaped. Here we perceive some great masses of stone, just hanging as it were by a thread; and we are filled with wonder that the rude blasts of by-gone winters have not, long ere this, hurled them into the abyss below. One of these singular masses is called the "Watch-box," and has a very grotesque appearance. We see the river from this spot winding its way very tranquilly the hazel bushes, briars, and stunted willows which deck its banks. Both the Staffordshire and Derbyshire sides of the river have their separate and distinct beauties of this singular vale. The tourist and the angler will find, however, the latter country the most convenient, as it is always open to the public; whereas that on the Staffordshire side is only accessible for rambling or piscatory purposes, from leave being granted at the "Isaac Walton," at Ham. But the best method of seeing all the lovely views of Dove-dale is to shun all the beaten tracts, and plunge at once into all its hidden and unfrequented nooks and corners, and climb its steep and towering peaks. An intelligent angler, with his mind susceptible of impressions from nature's works, will find this the best mode of steeping his spirit in the deep solitudes of her interesting and wide domains. There are some spots in this part of Derbyshire interesting to the angler who has a taste for the fine arts. Ham Hall is the seat of Jesse Watts Russell, Esq., and is built in the Tudor style of architecture. The landscape around is beautiful. The gallery of paintings comprehends some of the works of Romney, Gainsborough, Northcote, Stothard, Wilson, Shee, Turner, Owen, Howard, Landseer, with some foreign pictures of name and reputation. In the old village church there is a monumental group in white marble, by Sir Francis Chantry, worthy of notice. In the centre of the village is a work of great art, a gothic stone cross, which bears an inscription to the memory of a lady. This displays great taste, and a due appreciation of the highest principles of art. The Derwent rises from the hilly parts of Derbyshire, and runs through many beautiful vales, princely mansions, and the towns of Matlock, Belper, Darley, and Derby, and then joins the Trent a short distance from Shardlow Bridge. There are a great number of angling stations on this river; Baslow, Rowsby Bridge, and Matlock are the principal. Beautiful water and good sport will be found at all these places. The river below Matlock is not so good as that above it. But I have known anglers with minnow prefer the lower portions of the stream to the higher, on account of the larger fish found in the former locality. I would advise all anglers to provide themselves with a good stock of flies, when they visit the rivers of Derbyshire. Considerable variety, both as to colour and size, is required, from the clearness of the waters, the interruption given to the currents of air, by the winding and elevated nature of the banks of the streams; and the fluctuations in the volume of water, from dryness or moisture. All these matters have a practical effect upon the sportman's success. Speaking with considerable qualification, large flies do not suit the rivers in this country. They ought to be mostly smell; and the tackle generally cannot be too fine. remarks have a special reference to the Derwent. The The whole course of this river is about sixty-five miles. "In the space of forty miles," says a writer, "which includes the whole course of this river from the highest and wildest part of the Peak to the town of Derby, scenery more richly diversified with beauty can hardly anywhere be found. Generally, its banks are luxuriantly wooded; the oak, the elm, the alder, and the ash flourish abundantly along its course; beneath the shade of whose united branches the Derwent is sometimes secluded from the eye of the traveller, and becomes a companion for the ear alone; then suddenly emerging into day, it spreads through a more open valley, or winding round some huge mountain or rocky precipice, reflects their dark sides as it glides beneath. Sometimes this evervarying and ever-pleasing stream precipitates its foaming waters over the rugged projections and rocky fragments that interrupt its way: again the ruffled waves subside, and the current steals smoothly and gently through the vale, clear and almost imperceptible in motion. The Manifold is a good trout stream. It waters are remarkably limpid, and they require fine tackle and a light hand to elude deception. This river flows into the Dove. The Wye flows out of the hills in the neighbourhood of Buxton. It then runs down to Monsale-dale, the village of Ashford-in-the-Water, to Bakewell, and through the grounds of Haddon Hall, the property of the Duke of Rutland. A short distance from Haddon the Wye is joined by the stream called Lathkill, on which a recent tourist makes the following observations:-" Near Over-Haddon is the source of Lathkill, one of the most brilliant streams that play among the dells of Derbyshire. The cradle of this rivulet is pleasingly romantic: from a cavern in a mass of broken rack, whose sides and summits are adorned with branches of trees, the Lathkill issues into day; and running down a gentle declivity, |