young clergyman gave us a
discourse on the subject of the Trinity, and a tolerably clever one,
though it was only sixteen minutes long. The congregation were a healthy,
though not a very intelligent looking set of men and women. The Derbyshire
people have a saying--

"Darbyshire born, and Darbyshire bred,
Strong o' the yarm and weak o' the yead."

The latter line, translated into English, would be--

"Strong of the arm, and weak of the head;"

and I was assured that, like most proverbs, it had a good deal of truth in
it. The laboring people of Edale and its neighborhood, so far as I could
learn, are not remarkable for good morals, and indifferent, or worse than
indifferent, to the education of their children. They are, however, more
fortunate in regard to the wages of their labor, than in many other
agricultural districts. A manufactory for preparing cotton thread for the
lace-makers, has been established in Edale, and the women and girls of the
place, who are employed in it, are paid from seven to eight shillings a
week. The farm laborers receive from twelve to thirteen shillings a week,
which is a third more than is paid to the same class in some other
counties.

The people of the Peak, judging from the psalmody I heard at church, are
not without an ear for music. "I was at a funeral, not long since," said
our host, "a young man, born deaf and dumb, went mad and cut his throat.
The people came from far and near to the burial. Hot ale was handed about
and drunk in silence, and a candle stood on the table, at which the
company lighted their pipes. The only sound to be heard was the passionate
sobbing of the father. At last the funeral service commenced, and the hymn
being given out, they set it to a tune in the minor key, and I never heard
any music performed in a manner more pathetic."

On Monday we left Edale, and a beautiful drive we had along the banks of
the Derwent, woody and rocky, and wild enough in some places to be thought
a river of our own country. Of our visit to Chatsworth, the seat of the
Duke of Devonshire, one of the proudest of the modern English nobility,
and to Haddon Hall, the finest specimen remaining of the residences of
their ancestors, I will say nothing, for these have already been
described till people are tired of reading them. We passed the night at
Matlock in sight of the rock called the High Tor. In the hot season it
swarms with cockneys, and to gratify their taste, the place,