world, except the thoughts which the comtemplation of it inspired. I hardly dared to inquire further, but after a time, he said, "She was my daughter, and if an angel could descend to earth, she was one then, as she is now. All my joy on earth is that portrait, and all the good I have ever had awakened in my heart she is the origin of."

He conducted us over the curious old house, into numerous rooms, nooks, and corners, all in excellent order, with carved walls and ceilings; a complete specimen of the buildings two centuries back, and a most excellent dwelling-house for a modern family. Probably, when first erected, it stood alone in gardens in a park, but now it is surrounded by houses, chiefly small and new, and possessing no character in common with it.

The neighbourhood of Derby is singularly rich in picturesque objects, castles, ruined abbeys, fine seats, and charming scenery.

The train from Derby in the short space of ten minutes transports the curious traveller to the Willington station, from whence a short walk takes him to the seat of one of the last of those "fine old English gentlemen" who are rapidly disappearing from the country which they honoured. The friends and neighbours of the late beloved proprietor of Foremark, the celebrated Sir Francis Burdett, may now look sadly on the more than ever deserted hall of his ancestors, which stands on the pleasant banks of Trent. The house was built about a century since by his grandfather, and at one time he frequently resided there with his family. A magnificent avenue of venerable trees was his favourite retreat, where he often sat reading, or walked with one of those daughters to whom he was so tenderly attached, and he delighted in the beautiful rides in the vicinity of his park. His presence was always a happiness and a holiday to all his tenants: his kind heart, and noble generous feeling, being shown in every action of his life; but the delicate health of Lady Burdett prevented his visiting his Derbyshire property as often as his inclination would have led him to do. The pretty flower-garden, and the magnificent pinery, alone are left, as relics of the taste of one of the most amiable, gentle, refined, and benevolent of women, who bore a life of suffering with unexampled meekness, and whose loss, after an union of fifty years, broke the heart of her devoted husband. The deaths little more than a twelvemonth since, of Sir Francis and his lady within eleven days of each other, cannot but be remembered by most readers—too freshly, alas! by all those friends who had the happiness of knowing them intimately.

Foremark is in a most delightful position, with fine oak woods and spreading plantations round it: the country cheerful, and the air healthy. The architecture of the house is bold and grand, and it is a model of propriety as the residence of a country gentleman of fortune. The hall is very handsome, and all the apartments large and lofty. I never saw any abode which seemed to speak so plainly of the master, and told that his fine dwelling,

"Though vast, was little to his ampler heart."

There are many very curious and interesting family pictures; one in particular, of a large group of parents and children in the elaborate dress of the early part of James the First's reign, is kept within its frame by a golden chain, which the whole party of sons and daughters hold in their hands. There are remarkable traditions attached to some of the pictures, and all are in excellent preservation, having been

VOL. XVIII.

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carefully restored and repaired under the direction of the late lady, who rescued many of them from oblivion.

Some romantic rocks, which take the form of a ruined castle, rise in the grounds near the river, and are called Anchor Church, from a tradition that an anchorite made himself a home and a chapel amongst them in crusading days. This spot is a favourite resort of gipsy-parties from Derby and the neighbourhood; and not far off is another retreat, as much frequented, called "The Knowle Hill," where once stood an ancient mansion, said and believed in its time to be haunted, perhaps by some of the ancestors of the old family of Burdett, who first became possessors of Foremark in the time of the Norman Conqueror. Repton is a short drive from Foremark, and an interesting old village, full of monastic reminiscences. The spire of the ancient church is a landmark for a great distance, and is one of peculiar beauty. There is a fine old stone cross in the churchyard, and a pointed-arched gateway leads to the venerable-looking schoolhouse; but the most remarkable feature in Repton church is its crypt beneath the chancel, one of the most entire in the kingdom, and of very elegant construction. It has not been many years discovered, and deserves to attract more attention from antiquarians than it appears to have done. The roof is supported by two rows of round Saxon wreathed pillars very gracefully worked, and quite perfect: there are passages from this subterranean church leading into that above, which is apparently of much more recent date, for this is supposed to be of the same period as that beneath St. Peter's in the East, at Oxford, thought to have been built in Alfred's reign.

The schoolhouse is the refectory of the ancient priory established originally as early as the fourth or fifth century, and several times reedified, and remains of the extensive religious building are scattered about over a large tract of ground in the neighbourhood. The effigy of a Mercian king was found in good preservation not very long since, and has excited the learned speculations of not a few village antiquaries; one of whom assured me it was of an almost incredible age, least as ancient as the time of Henry the Eighth," which monasterydestroying monarch appears to be

"The Lote-tree, beyond which there is no passing,"

in the minds of the savans of Repton.

at

At Melbourne, an ancient village near Derby, are now but few crumbling stones covered with weeds and grass, where once stood a royal castle of great strength and pride, famous, as tradition has it, for having held within its walls the two illustrious prisoners of Henry the Fifth after the battle of Agincourt. It is said that this castle was the prison for nine years of Charles, Duke of Orleans, the poet-prince and prince of poets of his day, and John Duke of Bourbon, both of the blood-royal of France. Here, then, perhaps, might Charles have composed some of those beautiful poems which for twenty-five years beguiled the sorrows of his captivity, hurried as he was, like the unfortunate Mary Stuart, to whom Derbyshire afforded many a prison also, from castle to castle, by the jealous fears of his captor, who on his deathbed still entreated that he should never be liberated if the interests of England were dear to his subjects.

Amongst the Cotton MSS. is one in Henry the Fifth's own hand,

concerning the detention of the unfortunate prince at Pontefract which has this passage :—

"Furthermore, I wold that ye comend with my brother with the chancellor, &c., and that ye set a gode ordinance for my north marches, and specially for the Duc of Orlians, &c. I wolle that the Duc of Orlians be kept still within the castle of Pontfret, with oute going to Robertis place, or to any other disport, for it is better he tak his disport than we were disceyved. Of all the remanant of my prisoners of France do as ye thinketh."

Henry said, on his marriage with Katherine of France, to his chancellor. "If the prisoners of Agincourt, and, above all, if Charles of Orleans were to escape, it would be the most unfortunate event that could possibly happen."

Great care was therefore taken of this illustrious prisoner, and we trace him from Groombridge House, near Tonbridge Wells, to Melbourne, Pontefract, and to the Tower of London, where the magnificent, illuminated manuscript of his poems in the British Museum represents him receiving the news of his release from his long thraldom, and riding joyfully out of the fatal gates, to take his happy voyage to his native France, which he thus feelingly apostrophizes:

"En regardant vers le pays de France."

"I stood upon the wild sea-shore,

And mark'd the wide expanse,

My straining eyes were turn'd once more
To long-loved, distant France!

I saw the sea-bird hurry by
Along the waters blue;

I saw her wheel amidst the sky,
And mock my tearful, eager eye,
That would her flight pursue,
Onward she darts, secure and free,
And wings her rapid course to thee!
O that her wing were mine to soar,
And reach thy lovely land once more!
O heaven! it were enough to die

In my own, my native home,-
One hour of blessed liberty

Were worth whole years to come! "

Though the prison-fortress of Charles of Orleans is no longer to be seen, except by the eye of fancy, that of Mary Stuart at South Wingfield still rears its embattled walls, and may be clearly seen from the railroad at a short distance from Derby. It is one of the most picturesque and beautiful ruins I ever beheld, and its remains tell of great magnificence. It dates from the time Henry the Sixth, and must have been a stately dwelling-place. One or two delicate window-frames, full of stone tracery, appear amidst their drapery of ivy and floweringshrubs, and graceful pillars and sculptured walls attest its original elegance and strength. The great hall is seventy-two feet long by thirtysix, and beneath this chamber is another of the same size, with a double row of pillars running along the centre: this was probably the kitchen. But the part which creates most interest is that turret where the illfated Mary was confined: the form of the rooms very remarkable, being almost triangular, and they could not choose but be peculiarly inconvenient: not one of the suite could have been of moderate size;

is

and this is only one of many proofs of the tender mercies shown by Elizabeth to her fair foe. It was in 1569 that the Queen of Scots was brought to Wingfield, and here she shed many of those tears which dimmed the brightest eyes in Europe. From her turret-window, which commanded an extensive view of the country, and the steep road which led to the hill on which the castle or manor-house stands, she could see her friend, Leonard Dacre; and, it is said, was able to make signals to him, fatally discovered by her enemies, who warned her jailers that a plot was on foot for her liberation, and orders were promptly despatched that the persecuted Queen should be once more removed, and placed under the care of a more vigilant or more severe guardian than the sick and wearied Earl of Shrewsbury.

In Chatsworth Park is still seen a tower in the midst of a lake, the only remnant of ancient building existing at the time when Mary pined within the walls of that now stately, but then gloomy and desolate mansion, where the high hills of the Peak kept all hope from her, and the icy winds from their summits chilled her limbs, and benumbed her heart. The tardy pity of England permitted the unhappy victim to visit the baths of Buxton, where a cavern is still shown which bears her name, as she is supposed to have penetrated to some distance into the sparry depths of Poole's Cave, and to have reached a pillar called after her, beyond which it is dangerous to explore. A room is shown in the principal inn, which was occupied by her when she came to the healing-springs which gave her temporary relief, and on the window of which she wrote two well-known lines, expressive of her despondency or of her hope.

Derby, although uninviting in itself, has the advantage of being near, and by its railroad close, to some of the most beautiful scenery of England. Hardwick Hall is reached, by Chesterfield, in a few hours; Bakewell, with its enchanting sites, its Gothic church, and the unrivalled mansion in its vicinity, the far-famed Haddon Hall, rich in oriel windows, and carved panels and ceilings without end; hanging terraces, secluded turrets, lofty towers, and deep recesses: Haddon, rife with the memory of the fair fugitive, Dorothy Vernon, who, another Jessica,

"On such a night,

When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees
And they did make no noise,"

stole from her father's mansion with the happy Manners, and proved that

"She, of all mankind, could love but him alone,"

as Prior has sung of her, the original of his "nut-brown maid." From Derby may be made excursions to those beautiful vales, famous in description, and a continual variety of charming objects are within the traveller's reach who makes the town his head-quarters.

THE BLACK PROPHET.

I WAS quartered at Berhampore, in the -th native infantry, in the year 18-; the King's -th foot made up the garrison. A better set of men and officers were never collected together. The greatest harmony existed between us; the many feuds which arise between her Majesty's troops and those of the Company were unknown amongst us. The grand objects of our society seemed to amuse, and be amused. In India the evenings always pass pleasantly enough, but the mornings often hang heavily on our hands. Racket and billiards are the only pastimes for idle persons. These, however interesting at first, become dull by frequent repetition; and, as we have no books, as in Europe, to fly to, no power of walking or of riding out under the broiling sun, the hours between breakfast and dinner time often seem so wearisome, as to force the person fond of excitement to seek out new sources of enjoyment.

I was lolling on my cane couch smoking my hookah, alternately glancing at the punkah (an object about the size and form of the leaf of an English screen, which, being suspended to the ceiling by ropes, is swung to and fro by an attendant, in order to create an artificial breeze) over my head, and the often-read pages of an old "Gentleman's Magazine," when my head bearer walked in, and requested leave to absent himself for an hour.

În England such a demand would not have surprised me; but in Bengal such a solicitation was so novel, I could not help asking the man his reasons for wishing to go out, especially at an hour when he might be required to attend my palanquin.

"It is to go to the bazaar, sahib," replied the man.

"You wish to make purchases there; if so, why not wait till a later hour?”

"Such is not my wish. I do not go there to buy anything, sahib."

"To see your family, then?"

"No, sahib; I have no family there. My surviving relatives are at Moorshedabad."

"What do you, then, go to seek ?"

The man hesitated a moment ere he replied,

"I wish to consult the Brahmin Jesserie Poore."

"And who is this Jesserie ?"

"The great soothsayer, sahib. He who knows and foretels the destiny of every disciple of Vishnou."

"And you believe in his power?"

"Sahib ?" replied he interrogatively, as if doubting the possibility of the question I had put.

"Can he also predict the fate of Europeans?"

No, sahib; nor will he ever hold converse with them. He is forbidden to do so by a vow."

"Still I should like to go and see him."

"Impossible."

A thought suddenly struck me. I ordered my palanquin, which in a few minutes stood ready in my verandah.

"Take me to Jesserie's," said I, as I jumped in.