"What are the poor people to do?" I could not tell her. In fact, before I had found any solution to the problem I grew so puzzled and so sleepy that presently I bade them all good night and took myself off to bed.

CHAPTER IX.

THE PEAK.

A Castleton Lion.-Off for the Kinderscout.-Derwent Dale and the Woodlands.-The Duke of Norfolk's House.-Old Oak Furniture.-A Wild Country.-Tramps on the March.—The Kinderscout Region.-A Land of Chaos.-A Night Encampment.Rabbit or Bacon ?-The Night Visitor.

BEFORE turning my back upon Castleton, I thought it only fair to see one of the local lions, though I adhered to my resolution not to go underground. I made my way to the "Winnates," and found it very well worth a visit. It is a pass between the hills, commanding a fine view of Castleton and Hope Valley at the lower end, and presenting a wild and bleak aspect all the way through. The pass kept up its reputation that morning, for a gale was blowing through it, and to get along at all one had to make as many tacks as a ship beating against head winds. I was not sorry to get out upon the Buxton road. This I followed for a mile or so, and was rewarded with some good mountain views Buxtonwards. Then I returned to Castleton, and in order to save time took a trap to Derwent Dale, which I proposed to explore on foot, and afterwards to make the best of

my way up the valley of the Ashop and the Woodlands, and so to attack the Kinderscout region on the north side. There is an old road from Castleton to Ashopton passing through the village of Thornhill, and commanding fine views of the Yorkshire Moors, Oscar Moor, and Windhill. It leads to what is called the Yorkshire Bridge, over the Derwent-a solidly built bridge, meant to last. The driver no doubt praised it highly when he declared that it was a "clinkin' good one."

The whole of this district lies in the heart of the moors, and it would be difficult to choose a better centre from which to explore the wildest parts of Derbyshire, with occasional raids into Yorkshire. The Bradfield and Derwent Moors lie away to the north, Abney Moor to the south, and the Hallam Moors to the east, all with good paths over them in various directions, and carrying the traveller over high ground, which is ever preferable to being shut up in valleys. The houses in this part are few and far between, and it may easily happen that the visitor will find himself obliged to foot it all day without coming to any place where he will be able to obtain the least shelter or refreshment. But there are running streams on all the hills, and armed with one of the pocket cups which close like a telescope, there will be no necessity to suffer from thirst. The "Ashopton Inn " is the best in this region; the "Snake Inn" at the other end of the valley may also be made a convenient resting place. If the visitor then goes on to Hayfield and takes that as the centre for other explorations, he may consider that he has done justice to the Peak.

"T'scout," as the Kinderscout is locally called, is about five very rough miles from the "Snake," the path starting from almost opposite the inn door, on the other side of the brook, which may be crossed by a rickety old bridge a few hundred yards down the road. But this path is soon lost amid heather and furze, and the explorer must make out a track for himself as well as he can. However clever he may be at finding his way, he will often go widely and wildly astray; so much I can confidently promise bim for his encouragement.

Derwent Dale winds to the right, or north, of the clean and comfortable-looking little inn at Ashopton, and is very pretty and pastoral in its general aspect, although not to be compared with the valley of Edale. At the head of it is the village of Derwent Chapel, beautifully situated among the hills-perhaps the prettiest of Derbyshire villages; and close by it is a fine old hall once the property of a family named Bacon, but now owned by the Duke of Norfolk. It bears the date of 1672 upon its doorway, and has been much enlarged and improved by its new owner. I sought permission to look within, and received it from the housekeeper, who furthermore took the trouble to show me through the rooms. I do not remember when I have been more delighted with the contents of any house, old or new. It is full from top to bottom of the most wonderful oak furniture ever collected under a private roof-any single specimen of it would make the reputation of an ordinary house, but here every room is furnished throughout with magnificent old pieces,

brought together from all parts of the world by the Duke of Norfolk. There are to mention only a few of the articles which caught my eye-six figures of German workmanship, with the date of 1216 upon one of them. A grand four-post bedstead of old English

make is a marvel of ingenuity in carving and construction, and there is a sideboard for which an ardent collector would barter almost anything he possessed, for it is most beautifully carved, and bears upon it the inscription, "Rex Carolus I., Anno Do. 1646." Then there is a fine settee for a hall, with a royal hunting party carved upon its panels, and dated 1593. The hunts

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