this mass of rock, which, at all times, is in a drizzling state: small shrubs hang about the projections of the rocks in every direction; moss, and the yellow and green tints of time and weather, also give a degree of softness to the rugged pile. The greatest curiosity I saw at Maum Tor was, the river issuing at the bottom of the rock; there is not the smallest space between the surface of the water and the solid rock. The breadth of this river, as it glides from the pile of rocks, may be, as far as I could judge by my eye, not less than forty feet; it issues perfectly level, and runs off in the small hollow to the village of Maum, from whence it flows on to Leeds, &c.; its banks, and the moor just around the Tor, are ornamented with scattered birch, and mountain ash trees. In advancing to Maum Tor, I found springs rising at almost every step I took. The river at Maum Tor is the Air, and has its source from a lake near Penegent Hill; but how it gets under Maum Tor, I cannot tell. The carriage road down to the village of Maum is very bad for horses; it would be, for that reason, more advisable for those who travel with their own horses, to send them on the straight road to Skipton, 16 miles, and hire post-horses,
