Leaving Rainton, a sudden rise brings you to the Roman Military Road, leading from Aldborough,[3] the Isurium of the Romans, to Inverness, in Scotland.  This road was repaired by the Empress Heleanae, and hence the corruption, from her name, of Learning Lane, its present designation.  It was laid by the Romans, with stones of immense size, which have frequently been dug up.  The Via Appia, at Rome, which has lasted 1,800 years, resembles it in construction.  Raised considerably above the level of the country which it crosses, it is an object of wonder and interest even to the illiterate, on account of the continuous perspective it presents; there being no bend in it for several miles.  Traversing this noble monument of art, how are we led to think on the “strange mutations” which have overthrown kings and kingdoms in the period of its duration, whilst the road remains “like an eternity:” 

ON CROSSING THE ROMAN MILITARY ROAD, LEADING FROM ISURIUM TO THE NORTH.

  O’er classic ground my humble feet did plod,
    My bosom beating with the glow of song;
    And high-born fancy walk’d with me along,
  Treading the earth Imperial Caesar trod.

  A thousand rural objects on the way
    Had been my theme-but far-off years arose,
    When ancient Britain bow’d beneath her foes,
  Adding resplendence to great Caesar’s day: 

  When sounds of Roman arms through valley rung,
    And rose that glorious morn upon our isle,
    No night can hide, or cloud conceal its smile,
  That dazzling morn, which out of darkness sprung. 
    Enduring cenotaph of Roman fame—­
    More than this record of their mighty name!

I reached the ancient town of Ripon as the bells were merrily ringing in the towers of its old collegiate minster, for it was the anniversary of its patron saint, St. Wilfred.  After refreshment, and a walk of three miles, I arrived at Studley Park.  The fairy effect produced on entering this beautiful retreat is almost indescribable.  We suddenly exchange the field and forest scenery for all the poetry of prospect.  On the right is a declivity clothed with laurel, and stretching far away; and on the left a lofty and well trimmed fence of laurel, forms a screen or curtain to the valley beneath; the sighing of distant woods and the dashing of waterfalls, break on the enraptured ear, and cause the anxious eye to long for some opening in the verdant shroud.  Anon the valley is seen; and through an aperture in the laurel wall, cut in imitation of a window, breaks as sweet a scene as ever Claude immortalized!  Unwilling to hazard a formal description, I will merely attempt an outline.  Far below, the silver waters of the Skell meander softly amongst statues of tritons, throwing up innumerable fountain streams.  These are masterly executions after the ancient sculptors,