Joseph Mallord William Turner

offers on both sides a continually changing assemblage of picturesque and beautiful scenery. At times the stream is walled in on both banks by towering and almost perpendicular piles of rock, whose broken and crenelated summits, assume to the eye, the forms of gigantic fortresses and vast feudal castles in ruins. As these rocks contain a large proportion of iron ore, the deep dark rusty hues brought out upon them by the action of the air and the rain, give them a peculiarly sombre and time-warn character, which is admirably contrasted by the soft verdure of the trees and the bright green meadows, hop grounds, and gardens, in the vicinity.1