ther was on an excursion to that part of the country. The family possess great talents, united with some eccentricities. It is well known, that one of them pushed his fortunes in the United States, where he has acquired some celebrity. Another of them went to Gretna Green, with a dowerless, pretty girl, and was clandestinely married. The Bishop's monument is of white marble, elegantly finished, surmounted by an emblem of christianity, holding a crucifix, and lamenting the death of the prelate. Beneath is a neat, classical inscription in Latin.

Many other ecclesiastical dignitaries repose under the pavement; but none of them were men of much eminence. There are also many grotesque ornaments and inscriptions upon the walls, which did not appear to be worth the labour of deciphering, although they have furnished subjects for the researches of antiquaries. The arms of the officers of the church are quartered upon the ceiling; and the choir, which is finished with tabernacle work, is handsome, setting off to advantage the large window with stained glass.

After completing a survey of the cathedral, we made an excursion of a mile or two across the Calder, a branch of the Eden, to the southwest part of the town, for the purpose of examining the canal, which connects Carlisle with Solway Frith. In this walk, sections of the ancient walls, by which the town was once enclosed, with gates at the four avenues, were distinctly traced. But the object of our pursuit was less easy of discovery amidst the intricacies of the suburbs. The directions of a little boy upon the road afforded us more amusement than information. To our inquiries he replied, "ye gang doon, and ye gang doon, till you come to a house, and ye gang doon"- 66 thank you, my lad; that will do." The canal was at length reached, and found to be on a larger scale, than any that had been examined in England. Its length, to be sure, is short, being only twelve miles; but in breadth, depth and workmanship, it exceeds similar works in this country. In the basin at its termination, several brigs, from Liverpool, were discharging their cargoes. It admits vessels drawing nine

feet water. There are eight locks of eighteen feet breadth, between Carlisle and the Solway. It was constructed by a company, who have a large warehouse upon its margin, and carry on an extensive trade with the Frith, supplying the town with stone for building, and with coals.

In the afternoon, an hour or two was passed in the Academy of Fine Arts, which had been opened a few days previous. The collection contained upwards of two hundred pictures, covering the walls of four apartments. Many of them were from London, sent hither

Some of them were splendid picture of the We saw the fellow to

to be examined and sold, if purchasers offered. valued at £6,000. Among the number, was a King, just finished by Sir Thomas Lawrence. it at Chatsworth. There is but one more of the same stamp, which belongs to Lord Lowther. In the collection was a pretty illustration of Hawk Shooting, from a scene in Bracebridge Hall. The principal historical painting was Marmion's Mission to Scotland, before the battle of Flodden Field. But it would be endless to particularize. Nearly all the artists of any merit in the kingdom contributed to the assemblage. The show of statuary was limited and meagre. There was a sad want of arrangement in the collection. Venus and Hercules, Hebes and Gladiators, were all crowded into a small room together; and some of them appeared to have gotten broken arms, broken legs, and broken noses by being jostled. Due allowance should however be made. The proprietor of the hall, who seems to be a clever artist, has but just commenced this department.

The pleasures of the day and of our visit to Carlisle were closed with attending the theatre in the evening, partly to learn the fashions of the town, but more to see Miss F. H. Kelly, a sister to the one who, I suppose, has been long enough in the United States, and is certainly sufficiently a favourite, to be called our own. She appeared in the character of Belvidera, in Venice Preserved, a difficult part, in which, as in poetry, there can be no mediocrity, but which she performed to admiration. Her person is good, her step dignified, her voice has great compass and flexibility, and she catches the true spirit of the author. Her Belvidera was by far the chastest and most powerful specimen of acting I have yet seen in England. In the parts of Jaffier and Pierre she was tolerably well supported, and the rest was bad enough. The theatre is small, and of rude construction. There was a full house of genteely dressed ladies and gentlemen. The audience appeared to be discriminating in their applause, and remarkably silent and attentive, with the exception of one or two drunken fellows in the pit, who were engaged in a noisy brawl, whilst Belvidera was melting others into tears by her genuine pathos. Gratifying as it would have been to see Miss Kelly in the character of Jenny Deans, preparations to be off on the day following towards "the Heart of Mid Lothian," rendered it inconvenient to remain at the after-piece, and witness an exhibition of Scottish scenes in anticipation of our visit.

LETTER XXI.

WALL

RIDE FROM CARLISLE TO NEWCASTLE-UPON-TYNE-ROMAN DESCRIPTION OF NEWCASTLE-BIRTH PLACE OF AKENSIDE-GATESEND CASTLE-COLLIERIES-EXCURSION TO SHIELDS.

September, 1825.

ON the 21st, we set out for Newcastle, fifty-six miles from Carlisle. The road crosses the Eden, on the stately stone bridge already mentioned, which cost $200,000. At the little village of Stanwix, a mile beyond, on the right bank of the river, was the termination of the wall of Severus, extending seventy miles across the country, from the Solway to the mouth of the Tyne. A small church, in the above-mentioned village, is built from the ruins. This gigantic work of other ages was the most prominent object on our route, which ran parallel and close to it the whole day. Sections of it were distinctly seen in several places. At Thirlwall, as the name imports, about midway between the two extremities, a breach was forcibly made by the Picts. Such a barrier, designed to fence out a barbarous nation from their more civilized neighbours, however wild and unmilitary the project, was certainly a grand idea. Fortresses were erected, and garrisons stationed along the wall, enough of which yet remains to show what it once was, and to aid the imagination in forming a conception of its grandeur at that day, when the Roman eagles flew on the towers of the rampart, stretching from sea to sea, and the armies of barbarians, pouring like torrents from their native mountains, dashed against the bulwarks of their invaders.

The first part of our ride, for many miles, extended up the right bank of the Eden, and across several of its branches. One of them, called the Irthing, came rushing down from the hills, like a torrent of blood. It was much swollen by the late rains, and the complexion of the soil through which it runs gives it a deep red colour, forming a singular contrast with the verdure of its shores. Its waters were so turbid, and of so ruddy a hue, as to be incapable of producing foam, where they dashed over rocks, but in the agitation were covered with froth resembling what physicians term buff.

After passing the village of Brampton, containing a population of about 2000 and forming a part of the baronial estate of the late Earl of Carlisle, we ascended Mote Hill, which commands one of the widest horizons in the north of England. In a clear day, the Irish Sea, the Isle of Man, Solway Frith, the whole region about the lakes, the

Cheviot Hills on the borders of Scotland, and the German Ocean, may all be seen from the summit. Unfortunately for us, the atmosphere was filled with smoke, though not rainy, and our eyes were strained to catch a parting glimpse of Carlisle. The top of the eminence is finely wooded, and the landscape in the vicinity is among the finest on the road.

Some miles beyond this, we had a glimpse of Naworth Castle, the seat of the late Earl of Carlisle, who died only two weeks since, at an advanced age, leaving his residence and his large estates to his son, Lord Morpeth. The mansion is situate under a hill, and does not apper to advantage from the road, its aged turrets being but just visible above the intervening objects. It is a place of great antiquity, and came into the present family by a marriage with the Dacres, who repose amidst the ruins of Lanecroft Abbey, in an adjacent deep and retired vale. A legend is handed down respecting one of the early lords of Naworth. He was a profound scholar, and so fond of the seclusion of his closet, that the slightest disturbance threw him into a violent passion. A person who one day accidently broke in upon retirement of this modern Diogenes, lost his life by the intrusion. So saith tradition.

the

Soon after leaving the village of Greenhead, and crossing a small turbulent stream called the Tippel, we reached the banks of the Tyne. This river has its source in the Northumbrian and Cumbrian hills. It is a bold, wild, and rapid stream, descending generally at the rate of seven or eight miles the hour, and breaking over the rocks, which fill its channel. Its waters are of a reddish-yellow tinge, as if originating in beds of ochre. Its course was pursued the whole way to Newcastle, and even beyond the town, to its mouth, where it is nearly as large as the Thames. The vale through which it runs presents some agreeable scenery, and is filled with so many old castles, that it was deemed hardly worth while to number them, or record their names. Extensive tracts of moorland and fells stretch along the sides of the valley, on which for many miles no houses nor traces of cultivation are to be seen.

Just before entering Hexham, a large town on the right bank of the Tyne, we walked up a steep hill of more than a mile in extent, on the brow of which a great battle was fought between the houses of York and Lancaster. It is said the effusion of blood was so copious, as actually to descend the declivity in torrents! Hexham possesses some interesting antiquities, and sepulchral monuments in the old church; but the coach paused merely long enough to afford the passengers time to dine, and the place was imperfectly seen.

In the course of the afternoon, we rode for many miles through

lands which once composed a part of the estates of Lord Derwentwater, (alluded to in a former letter,) and which now belong to Greenwich Hospital. They are laid out in farms of moderate extent, well cultivated by an industrious tenantry, and produce a large annual revenue to that institution. The head and trunk of his lordship, having been severed at London for high treason, were brought to his seat, pointed out to us from the road, and there repose in a retired and rural situation, after a life of inquietude and restless ambition.

At 6 o'clock in the evening, we arrived at the summit of a hill, which looks down upon the whole of Newcastle, occupying the steep declivity extending from its brow to the northern bank of the Tyne. Both the town and its environs present an unique appearance, sombre and gloomy, but from its novelty not uninteresting. The dark complexion of the houses, roofed with bright red tile-the yellowish tinge of the river-the deep green of its shores-and the black, massive steam-engines, rising like so many castles over the shafts of innumerable collieries, all in motion and vomiting forth volumes of smoke, form peculiar and striking features in the scenery. An odd taste in building and the fantastic, crown-shaped spires of some of the churches add to the singularity of the view. Some of the blocks of houses are ranged endwise on the declivity, rising one above another like steps in a flight of stairs.

Descending with locked wheels through a long line of streets, we took lodgings at the Queen's Head, and late as it was, immediately commenced an examination of the town. One of the first objects of curiosity was the birth-place of Dr. Akenside, author of the Pleasures of the Imagination. Several fruitless inquiries were made of persons, who seemed to know more about coals than poetry; but a clever bookseller at length showed us an engraving of the old house, and literally put us upon the right scent to find it, authorising us to make use of his name to a butcher, who keeps his stall at the next door, and would point out the dwelling. A difficulty in finding the place, however, called forth an act of kindness from another aged bookseller, who walked through the streets bare-headed, with his pen behind his ear, to direct us to Butchers' Bank, the narrow, close, and dirty lane, which gave birth to the poet. Both sides of it are occupied by stalls, and all sorts of smells arising from a confined meat market here invade the senses.

Mr. Wright, the butcher, was at last found, and with his apron on, and his cleaver in his hand, conducted us to the most advantageous position for examining the house in which the favoured bard was born. It is a black, dirty looking building, three stories high, the basement of which is occupied by a stall and the other part by a poor family,