below they'll find it out. Just where you stand by that door I
have several times seen a lady and gentleman--only for a moment or two,
for they come like a flash; when I have been sitting in the kitchen, not
thinking of any such thing, they stood there--the gentleman with ruffles
on, the lady with a scarf round her waist; I never believed in ghosts,
but I have seen _them_. I am used to it now, and don't mind it, but we
do not like the noises, because they disturb us. Not long ago my
husband, who comes here at night, and I could not sleep at all, and we
thought at last that somebody had got shut up in the castle, for some
children had been here that day; so we lit a candle and went all over
it, but there was nothing, only the noises following us, and keeping on
worse than ever after we left the rooms, though they stopped while we
were in them." The old woman's tale shows the atmosphere there is about
this sombre and ghostly castle of Bolsover.

THE WYE AND THE DERWENT.

[Illustration: THE CRESCENT, BUXTON.]

These two noted rivers take their rise in the Derbyshire hills, and,
coming together at Rowsley near the pretty Peacock Inn, flow down to the
sea through the valleys of the Wye, the Trent, and the Humber. Rising in
the limestone hills to the north of Buxton, the Wye flows past that
celebrated bath, where the Romans first set the example of seeking its
healing waters, both hot and cold springs gushing from the rocks in
close proximity. It stands nine hundred feet above the sea, its nucleus,
"The Crescent," having been built by the Duke of Devonshire; and the
miraculous cures wrought by St. Mary's Well are noted by Charles Cotton
among the _Wonders of the Peak_. From Buxton the Wye follows a romantic
glen to Bakewell, the winding valley being availed of, by frequent
tunnels, viaducts, and embankments, as a route for the Midland Railway.
In this romantic glen is the remarkable limestone crag known as Chee
Tor, where the curving valley contracts into a narrow gorge. The gray
limestone cliffs are in many places overgrown with ivy, while trees find
rooting-places in their fissures. Tributary brooks fall into the Wye,
all flowing through miniature dales that disclose successive beauties,
and then at a point where the limestone hills recede from the river,
expanding the valley, Bakewell is reached. Here are also mineral
springs, but the most important place in the town is the parish church,
parts of which are seven hund