THE COUNTRY OF EUGENE ARAM

There is a little river in England called the Nidd, and on its high banks stand the ruins of a castle.  There is much in this part of it to remind one of the Rhine; the banks rise up in bold, picturesque form; the river just here is broad and deep, and the castle enough of a ruin to lead us to invest it with some legend, such as belongs to every robber’s nest on that famous river.  No hawk-eyed baron ready to pounce on the traveler, is recorded as having lived here; all that seems to be remembered of it is, that the murderers of Thomas A Becket lay secreted here for a time after that deed of blood, ere they ventured forth on their pilgrimage, haunted by the accursed memory of it all their lives.  This is something, to be sure, in the way of historic incident, but the real interest of this immediate region arises from the fact of its being the home and haunt of Eugene Aram.  A great English novelist has woven such a spell of enchantment around the history of this celebrated criminal, that I could not help devoting a day to the environs of the little town of Knaresboro’, in and around which the most eventful portion of Aram’s life was passed.  A famous dropping-well, whose waters possess the power of rapidly petrifying every object exposed to them, is one of the most noticeable things in the neighborhood.  There are also one or two curious rockcut cells, high up on precipitous slopes, which were inhabited years ago by pious recluses who had withdrawn from the vanities of the world.  Some were highly esteemed here in their lives, and here their bones reposed; and the fact of their remaining undiscovered sometimes for many years, was ingeniously used by Aram in his defense, to account for the discovery of the bones of his victim in the neighboring cave of St. Robert.  This latter is one of the few places connected with Aram’s history that can be pointed out with certainty.  It lies about two miles below the castle before mentioned.  It is even now a place that a careless pedestrian might easily pass without remarking, notwithstanding that its entrance is worn by many curious feet.  The entrance is very narrow, and the cavern, like caverns in general, exceedingly dark.  The river flows by more rapidly here than above; the grass grows long and wild, and there is a gloomy air about it that would make it an unpleasant place for a night rendezvous even without the horrid associations connected with it.  The exact place where Clark’s hones were discovered is pointed out, and probably correctly, as the space is too narrow to admit of much choice.  Here they lay buried for years, while according to Bulwer, this most refined of murderers was building up a high name as a scholar and a stainless reputation as a man.  A field not far off is pointed out as the place where were found the bones which led to the detection of Aram.  Though but few places can now be indicated with certainty in connection with his tragic story,