Such were the _tours de force_ of the times, when wealth helped, and there were no restraining conditions; when the architect had a free hand to design, and the client another to pay. But in cases where the opportunities were more limited, the results were more reasonable, and such houses as Foremark are quite satisfactory. They have not the sparkle of their predecessors, it is true, but they combine dignity with comfort. Calke Abbey, lying hidden amid its ancient woodlands, is another fine example of the time. There are not a few good specimens of formal gardens in the county. Haddon has terraced gardens which hardly receive the attention they deserve, so much is the interest of the visitor absorbed by the house. Eyam Hall, in the village rendered famous by the heroism and energy of its rector during a visitation of the plague, has a simple lay-out of walls and steps and formal paths. Locko rejoices in terraced gardens judiciously laid out, and resulting in admirable though simple effects. But the finest gardens are at Melbourne, in the south of the county, where stately vistas cross each other and give distant glimpses of urns or statues, which themselves are worth careful inspection when at length they are reached. The effect is increased by placing some notable feature, such as a fine vase, at the meeting of several avenues; seen thus again and again from unexpected points, it adds to the apparent extent and intricacy of the lay-out. There is a long walk completely tunnelled over with dense yew hedges, and down in the bottom is a placid pool where sportive cupids play. [Illustration: North Lees Hall.] [Illustration: Foremark Hall (Garden Front).] Such is a brief glance at some of the more noteworthy houses of the county; others there are waiting for the explorer to discover, as he will do in almost any expedition he can make, whether it be among the pasture land of the south, or the more bleak and invigorating hills which culminate in the wild plateau of Kinder Scout. WINGFIELD MANOR HOUSE IN PEACE AND IN WAR By G. le Blanc-Smith Derbyshire, if unable to boast of that share of stirring episode with which war and the hate of man have impregnated other counties, if unable to show the numerous stately castles and religious houses of its neighbouring shires, can at least proudly name a house which, while being a gem of architecture, yet was so cunningly situated by its owner as to prove a menace to the surrounding country, and a fortress which required no mean ability to compass its surrender, at the same time being of a nature so secure that it was used as the prison-house of the greatest political prisoner in our island’s history.