Proceeding onwards, the scene opens to the right, and lets in a lofty hill, an immense mass of wooded rock, whose point is crowned by a good ruined tower, called Mowbray-Castle, which, from its isolated situation, has an extremely happy effect. But this is speedily shut out from the eye by the thickening gloom around us, and all is close and quiet till we descend to the fisher's-hall, a little octagon room, constructed in the Gothic taste, of calcareous petrifactions, and opening a view unparalleled in its kind. Behind, every distant object is excluded by a mountainous bank of wood, except a pretty little ruin upon a point, and a narrow ribband of cascade falling down the rock. To the right, the brook, which we had been following, throws itself over a series of natural craggy steps; above this the august promontory on which Mowbray-Castle stands, rises to the height of six or seven hundred feet. Directing itself to the left', the eye catches another wooded hill, whose sides suddenly forming themselves into precipices present a long line of perpendicular rock; and at length uniting with the valley, are washed by the river Oure, who forces his impetuous course through it in a broad and winding stream, confined on both sides to his rocky bed by abrupt banks, clothed with venerable woods.