Castleton. \ 35 



have been comparatively well trodden, the Winnats, up 

 to about eighty years ago, having been the sole thorough- 

 fare from Chapel into Hope Dale. The high-road now 

 curls round by the foot of Mam Tor, or the "Shivering 

 Mountain," so called because of the continual dribbling 

 away upon one side of the loose material of which this 

 singular pile chiefly consists. The apex of Mam Tor is 

 one thousand three hundred and fifty feet above the sea, 

 yet so great is the elevation of all the surrounding 

 country that it seems quite inconsiderable. Everywhere 

 hereabouts, in fact throughout the journey, after leaving 

 Chapel, a remarkable negative feature of the scenery is 

 the absence of water. Plenty of the little recesses are 

 here that remind us of those afar where moisture drips 

 and sparkles on green moss. But we look in vain for 

 the slightest trickling movement. There are none of the 

 little springs which ordinarily upon the mountain-side 

 seem longing for the time when they shall become 

 cascades. In Lancashire a pass like the Winnats would 

 have had a splashing and plentiful stream, or at all 

 events would remind us of a Palestine wady. It is 

 further remarkable that upon these hills there is no 

 heather, nor is there a single plant of either whortleberry 

 or bracken. The great attraction at Castleton consists 

 in the caverns. The Blue-John mine should be visited in 

 order to learn what stalactite drapery means; but the 

 best part of the "Peak-cavern" is the vestibule, open to 

 the daylight. Pushing into the interior, the vast altitude 

 of one small portion, revealed for a moment by means of 



