although from the walks in its vicinity, and the two little bridges thrown across it, it wears perforce an artificial air. The legend of the sleep-walking lady and the knight from Palestine or elsewhere, is bald and improbable enough, nor does it even enhance to us the charm of the situation. The story that a deer and dog came down the roaring fall, without hurt to the latter animal, is much more harmonious and fitting to the place. The long deep winding dell, the mossy stones, the fern-clad banks, the gleaming cataract leaping from one trembling bridge to the other, and the not unusual sight of herds of deer seen through the trees that fringe its northern side,- form a spectacle, however, independent of any amount of association. Stand for a few minutes ere you leave Ara Force, upon the green hill above it, and view the mountainous amphitheatre at the lake's head. The hill that fills up the eastern shore of the upper reach is Place Fell; Red Screes, from its colour, is the most striking of the hills towards Patterdale; next are Dove Crag and Birks, and then St. Sunday's Crag (up Grisedale way) with Fairfield peeping over his shoulder. The shapes of many of these are however, as it seems, continually changing, (more so upon Ullswater than elsewhere) and we learn to value our old friends, the Langdale Pikes, of exempláry conduct in this matter, all the And now, if we have been thoughtful, we have ordered a boat to meet us at this Tower, and have sent the carriage back to the inn: for Ullswater is a lake that should not be seen only from its shores, however fair. The islands in it, as are all the Lakeland islands

more.

(with the melancholy exception of the one in our own beloved Grasmere) are beautifully wooded and studded with rock; the eastern shore is bare and somewhat precipitous, but the western, leafy to the water's edge. And so, with song, or laughter musical as song, and hearts brimful of Nature's glorious wine, we are oared over the dark blue waves (for Ullswater is seldom calm) to Patterdale; and so by Kirkstone, after dinner, home. There is a small but devoted band of worshippers who will denounce our system of "doing" this sacred lake in a single day: and we ourselves, who have dwelt by its side for weeks, admit that it is deserving of a much longer visit. Its beauties however are, as we before hinted, of a somewhat recondite character, and though infinitely to be enjoyed by a sojourner in the heart of them, are not of an exhibitional character, nor such as can be dwelt upon with unction in a Guidebook. We believe that we have mentioned all the more obvious glories of this region; to go beyond Lyulph's Tower, or at least Gowbarrow Park, to eastward, is to descend from splendid scenery to mere prettiness. And as for chasing, or even looking after, the red deer in Martindale, or despoiling the famous treasury of trout in Hayswater-are these things, oh enthusiastic Patterdalian, to be done in a day?

IV.

AMBLESIDE TO HAWES WATER.

This expedition can be only undertaken (unless by a very circuitous route) on foot, and by a hardy pedestrian. To such, a mountain-climb and a new scene at the end of it, should be always welcome, and

we therefore include it among the things "doable."

If any gentleman who has been to Hawes Water endeavours to persuade you that that out-of-the-way mere is by far the grandest and most picturesque in the district, we recommend you not to be disturbed in your mind. The place is not nearly so fine as its neighbour Ullswater: although it will well repay the labour of getting to it, and would, in another part of the country be doubtless an object of great attraction. The route we speak of is a trackless hill-excursion of the most glorious kind. We have ourselves traversed it both in mist and in fine weather, but as for directing the tourist what exact line to take, or what particular precipice to avoid tumbling over, we must decline all such responsibility, and recommend him to take a human guide, as well as this little book. Such a convenience can be produced at a moderate charge at 'the highest house' in England. We have to ascend Kirkstone as in Excursion III., (which we can do by the early coach from Ambleside, any morning) and then start from the little public house, eastward, across the fells. Our twelve hundred feet above the sea, (the height of the Pass) will have to be doubled before we have reached the summit of High Street: but, once there, we must confess we never saw a High Street to be compared with it. A long broad track, quite green, -with one huge curve or dip in its centre, - but evidently an artificial roadway, near three thousand feet above the sea-level. It is indeed a glorious pathway! The view on either side as you march along on the high-level, with perfect ease, (unless the mountain

wind be blowing against you) are very varied and extensive, but the thing which strikes you most is the solitariness and out-of-the-world character of the spot. You can by no means imagine that horse-races and a large country merry-making, are held here, upon the old Romans' territory, once every year; that this lofty solitude is ever peopled with holiday-keepers, and that these stern precipices are made to echo with the mirth of (very likely) intoxicated mortals. Yet such is indeed the case. Now however, Hays Water looks calm and solitary enough on the one hand, as Blea Water on the other, in the direction of which we are bound. But how to descend these eastern precipices, and gain the haven of Mardale Green is the question ? We were, we were told, to meet with one Nan Bield up here (a relation of Dolly Waggon Pike's in Grisedale) who would point us out the way by which to get down; but she is not to our eyes, recognisable. Here is one break-neck path indeed — but as for our friend on the pony, he whose idiosyncrasy it was never to walk where he could possibly ride, there is nothing left for him but to go back to Ambleside, which he accordingly does. He, at least, ought to have taken a guide from Kirkstone, but young men (are they not, Paterfamilias ?) are ever thoughtless and foolhardy! The rest of us do get down somehow into the blindest of vallies, and so on to Mardale Green and 'the Dun Bull,' which receives us, who are almost as "done" as itself, within its hospitable but inextensive walls. After these eternal eggs and ham (which, the last time we visited this hotel, were discussed by means of two-pronged steel forks,

D

which lent them an additional piquancy) we proceeded to the lake, about a hundred yards distant from the inn. This piece of water is three miles long, but as we are already at the head of it, and the scenery at the foot is, as usual, somewhat tame, it will not be expedient to go further than half that distance, where a promontory from the western shore juts forward into the mere, as though it would divide it. Here there is a small cluster of cottages and a beck, called Fordendale, which exhibits several pretty and rather singularly-shaped falls. The view from hence of the mountain-ridges to the south is as fine as from anywhere, and they certainly crowd around the head of the little mere,-summit upon summit," Alp on Alp,"-in a very imposing manner. Immediately opposite is Wallow Crag; and northward, upon the same side of the water, Naddle Forest clothes the shore with green for a great distance. This somewhat unpromising and sterile neighbourhood is extremely productive of cheese and butter, which are conveyed to the Shap railway station (within some six miles to eastward) to please the palates of far-away town-gentry who little guess from what a sequestered and romantic spot these necessaries come. Harter Fell, Pyat Crag, and High Street, form the outermost line of the grand hills to southward, but between us and them there are no less than two more ranges. There is a good road hence to Pooley Bridge at the foot of Ullswater, (nine-and-a-half miles,) as also to Penrith (fifteen miles), through Bampton-the dreariest little country-town in the world: and there is also a tolerable way for wheels into Long Sleddale or Kent