" Passing along the
Ecclesall Road, we saw, in nicely wooded enclosures, many of the houses
of manufacturers and merchants, who, like ourselves in after life, left
their men to sleep in the smoke while they themselves went to breathe
the purer air above, for Ecclesall was at a fair elevation above the
town. But one gentleman whom we saw assured us that, in spite of the
heavy clouds of smoke we had seen, the town was very healthy, and there
was more sunshine at Sheffield than in any other town in England.
Shortly afterwards we came to a finger-post where a road turned off
towards Norton and Beauchief Abbey. Norton was the village where the
sculptor Chantrey, of whom, and his works, we had heard so much, was
born, and the monument to his memory in the old church there was an
attraction to visitors. Chantrey was a man of whom it might safely be
said "his works do follow," for my brother, who always explored the wild
corners of the country when he had the opportunity, was once travelling
in Wales, and told a gentleman he met that he intended to stay the night
at the inn at the Devil's Bridge. This was not the Devil's Bridge we had
crossed so recently at Kirkby Lonsdale, but a much more picturesque one,
which to visit at that time involved a walk of about thirteen miles in
the mountainous region behind Aberystwyth.
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