 Part 1 of Early Guides to the English Lake District This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Dr Brown's letter describing the Vale and Lake of Keswick In my way to the north from Hagley, I passed through Dovdale, and to say the truth was disappointed in it. When I came to Buxton, I visited another or two of their romantic scenes, but these are inferior to Dovdale. They are but poor miniatures of Keswick, which exceeds them more in Grandia than I can give you to imagine, and more, if possible, in beauty than in Grandia. Instead of the narrow slip of valley which is seen at Dovdale, you have at Keswick a vast amphitheatre in circumference above 20 miles. Instead of a meagre rivulet, a noble living lake, 10 miles round, of an oblong form, adorned with a variety of wooded islands. The rocks indeed of Dovdale are finely wild, pointed and irregular, but the hills are both little and unanimated, and the margin of the brook is poorly edged with weeds, morass and bushwood. But at Keswick, you will on one side of the lake see a rich and beautiful landscape of cultivated fields rising to the eye in fine inequalities, with noble groves of oak happily dispersed, and climbing the adjacent hills, shade above shade, in the most various and picturesque forms. On the opposite shore, you will find rocks and cliffs of stupendous height, hanging broken over the lake in horrible Grandia, some of them a thousand feet high, the woods climbing up their steep and shaggy sides, where mortal foot never yet approached. On these dreadful heights, the eagles build their nests. A variety of waterfalls are seen pouring from their summits, and tumbling in vast sheets from rock to rock in rude and terrible magnificence. While on all sides of this immense amphitheatre, the lofty mountains rise round, piercing the clouds in shapes as spirey and fantastic as the very rocks of Dovdale. To this I must add the frequent and bold projection of the cliffs into the lake, forming noble bays and promontress. In other parts, they finally retire from it, and often open in abrupt chasms or clefts, through which at hand you see rich and cultivated veils, and beyond these at various distance, mountain rising over mountain, among which new prospects present themselves in mist, till the eye is lost in an agreeable perplexity, where active fancy travels beyond sense and pictures things unseen. We're right to analyse the two places into their constituent principles. I should tell you that the full perfection of Keswick consists of three circumstances, beauty, horror and immensity united. The second of which is alone found in Dovdale. Of beauty it's half little, nature having left it almost a desert. Neither its small extent nor the diminutive and lifeless form of the hills admits magnificence. But to give you a complete idea of these three perfections, as they are joined in Keswick, would require the united powers of Claude, Salvatore and Poussin. The first should throw his delicate sunshine over the cultivated veils, the scattered cots, the groves, the lake and wooded islands. The second should dash out the horror of the rugged cliffs, the steeps, the hanging woods and foaming waterfalls, while the grand pencil of Poussin should crown the whole with the majesty of the impending mountains. So much for what I would call the permanent beauties of this astonishing scene. Where I not afraid of being tiresome, I could now dwell as long on its varying or accidental beauties. I would sail round the lake, anchor in every bay, and land you on every promontory and island. I would point out the perpetual change of prospect, the woods, rocks, cliffs and mountains, by turns vanishing or rising into view, now gaining on the sight, hanging over our heads in their full dimensions, beautifully dreadful, and now by a change of situation, assuming new romantic shapes, retiring and lessening on the eye, and insensibly losing themselves in an azure mist. I would remark on the contrast of light and shade produced by the morning and evening sun, the one gilding the western and the other the eastern side of this immense amphitheatre, while the vast shadow projected by the mountains buries the opposite part in a deep and purple gloom which the eye can hardly penetrate. The natural variety of colouring which the several objects produce is no less wonderful and pleasing. The ruling tints in the valley, being those of azure, green and gold, yet ever various, arising from an intermixture of the lake, the woods, the grass and cornfields. These are finally contrasted by the grey rocks and cliffs, and the whole heightened by the yellow streams of light, the purple hues and misty azure of the mountains. Sometimes a serene air and clear sky disclose the tops of the highest hills, at others you see the clouds involving their summits, resting on their sides or descending to their base and rolling among the valleys as in a vast furnace. When the winds are high they roar among the cliffs and caverns like peels of thunder. Then too the clouds are seen in vast bodies sweeping along the hills in gloomy greatness, while the lake joins the tumult and tosses like a sea. But in calm weather the whole scene becomes new. The lake is a perfect mirror and the landscape in all its beauty, islands, fields, woods, rocks and mountains are seen inverted and floating on its surface. I will now carry you to the top of a cliff where, if you dare, approach the ridge, a new scene of astonishment presents itself, where the valley, lake and islands seem lying at your feet. Where this expanse of water appears diminished to a little pool amidst the vast immeasurable objects that surround it. For here the summits of more distant hills appear beyond those you have already seen, and rising behind each other in successive ranges and as your groups of craggy and broken steeps form an immense and awful picture which can only be expressed by the image of a tempestuous sea of mountains. Let me now conduct you down again to the valley and conclude with one circumstance more, which is that a walk by still moonlight, at which time the distant waterfalls are heard in all their variety of sound. Among these enchanting dales opens a scene of such delicate beauty repose and solemnity as exceeds all description. End of Part 1 Part 2 of Early Guides to the English Lake District This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Extract from Dr Dalton's descriptive poem, enumerating the beauties of the Lake of Keswick, first printed in 1755. See Perch's collection of poems. To nature's pride, sweet Keswick's veil, the muse will guide. The muse, who trod then chanted ground, who sailed the wondrous lake around. With you will haste once more to hail the beauteous brook of Borodale. From savage parent's gentle stream, be thou the muse's favourite theme. O soft insinuating glide, silent along the meadow side. Smooth o'er the sandy bottom pass, resplendent all through fluid glass. Unless upon thy yielding breast, there painted heads the lilies rest, To where, in deep capacious bed, the widely liquid lake is spread. Let other streams rejoice to roar down the rough rocks of dreaded low-door. Rush raving on with boisterous sweep, and foaming rend the frighted deep. Thy gentle genius shrinks away from such a rude unequal fray. Through thine own native dale, where rise tremendous rocks amid the skies. Thy waves with patience slowly wind, till they the smoothest channel find. Soften the horrors of the scene, and through confusion flow serene. Horrors like these at first alarm, but soon with savage grandeur charm, And raised to noblest thoughts the mind. Thus by thy fall, low-door reclined, the craggy cliff, impendent wood, Whose shadows mix o'er half the flood. The gloomy clouds, which solemn sail, scarce lifted by the languid gale, War the capped hill, and darkened vale. The ravening kites and bird of jove, which round the aerial ocean-rove, And floating on the billowy sky, with full expanded pinions fly. They're fluttering, or they're bleeding prey, dense with deaf-dooming eyes survey. Channels by rocky torrents torn, rocks to the lake in thunder-borne, Or such as o'er our heads appear, suspended in their mid-career, To start again at his command, who rules fire, water, air, and land. I view with wonder and delight, a-pleasing, though an awful sight. For seen with them, the verdant aisles soften with more delicious smiles, More tempting twine their opening bowers, more lively glow the purple flowers. More smoothly slopes the border gay, in fairer circles bends the bay, And last, to fix our wandering eyes, thy roof so chesque, brighter rise, The lake and lofty hills between, where giant skidor shuts the scene. End of Part 2 Part 3 of Early Guides to the English Lake District This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. A description of Donald Mill Hall by Mr. A. W. Taken from the annual register for 1760, Lancaster, August the 26th, 1760. Last Sunday I visited a cavern about five miles from hence, near the road to Kirby Lonsdale, called Donald Mill Hall, a curiosity I think inferior to none of the kind in Derbyshire, which I have also seen. It is on the middle of a large common, and we are led to it by a brook nearly as big as the New River, which, after turning a corn mill, just at the entrance to the cave, runs in at its mouth by several beautiful cascades, continuing its course two miles under a large mountain, and at last making its appearance again near Calmforth, a village in the road to Kendall. The entrance of this subterranean channel has something most pleasingly horrible in it. From the mill at the top, you descend for about ten yards perpendicular, by means of chinks in the rocks and shrubs of trees. The road is then almost parallel to the horizon, leading to the right, a little winding, till you have some hundreds of yards thick of rocks and mineral above you. In this manner we proceeded, sometimes through vaults so capacious, we could not see either roof or sides, and sometimes on all four, from its narrowness, still following the brook which entertained us with a sort of harmony while suiting the place. For the different height of its falls were as so many keys of music, which all being conveyed to us by the amazing echo, greatly added to the majestic horror which surrounded us. In our return, we were more particular in our observations. The beautiful lakes, formed by the brook in the hollow part of the cavern, realised the fabulous sticks, and the murmuring falls from one rock to another, broke the rays of our candles, so as to form the most romantic vibrations and appearances upon the variegated roof. The sides too are not less remarkable for fine colouring. The damp, the creeping vegetables, and the seams in the marble and limestone parts of the rock make as many tints as I've seen in the rainbow, and are covered with a perpetual varnish from the just weeping strings that trickle from the roof. The curious ingrottos, cascades, etc., might here obtain a just taste of nature. When we arrived at the mouth, and once more hailed old shearing daylight, I could not but admire the uncouth manner in which nature has thrown together those huge rocks, which compose the arch over the entrance. But, as if conscious of its rudeness, she has closed it with trees and shrubs of the most various and beautiful verdure, which bend downwards, and with their leaves cover all the rugged parts of the rock. As I have never met with an account of this place in any other author, I therefore think it's the greater curiosity, but its obscure situation I take to be the reason. End of Part 3 Part 4 of Early Guides to the English Lake District This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Mr Gray's journal, in a letter to Dr. Wharton, October 18th, 1769, published in the memoirs of his life by Mr. Mason. I hope you got safe and well home after that troublesome night. Footnote. Dr. Wharton, who had intended to accompany Mr. Gray to Keswick, was seized at Brough with a violent fit of his asthma, which obliged him to return home. This was the reason that Mr. Gray undertook to write the following journal of his tour for his friend's amusement. He sent it under different covers. I give it here in continuation. It may not be amiss, however, to hint to the reader that if he expects to find elaborate and nicely turned periods in this narration, he will be greatly disappointed. When Mr. Gray described places, he aimed only to be exact, clear and intelligible, to convey peculiar not general ideas, and to paint by the eye not the fancy. There have been many accounts of the Westmillan and Cumberland lakes, both before and since this was written, and all of them better calculated to please readers who are fond of what they call fine writing. Yet those who can content themselves with an elegant simplicity of narrative will, I flatter myself, find this to their taste. They will perceive it was written with a view rather to inform than to surprise, and if they make it their companion when they take the same tour, it will enhance their opinion of its intrinsic excellence. In this way, I tried it myself before I resolved to print it. End of footnote. I long to hear you say so. For me, I have continued well, being so favoured by the weather that my walks have never once been hindered till yesterday. That is a fortnight and three or four days, and a journey of more than three hundred miles. I am now at Aston for two days. Tomorrow I go to Cambridge. Mason is not here, but Mr. Alderson receives me. According to my promise, I send you the first sheet of my journal to be continued without end. September 30th. A mile and a half from Brough, where we parted on a hill, they are great army and camped. Footnote. There is a great fair for cattle kept on the hill near Brough on this and the preceding day. End of footnote. To the left opened a fine valley with green meadows and hedgerows, a gentleman's house peeping forth from a grove of old trees. On a nearer approach appeared myriads of cattle and horses in the road itself, and in all the fields round me, a brisk stream hurrying cross the way. Thousands of clean, healthy people in their best party-coloured apparel, farmers and their families, esquires and their daughters hastening up from the dales and down the fells from every quarter, glittering in the sun and pressing forward to join the throng. While the dark hills on whose tops the mists were yet hanging served as a contrast to this gay and moving scene which continued for near two miles more along the road, and the crowd, coming towards it, reached on as far as Appleby. In the ascent of the hill above Appleby, the thick hanging wood and the long reaches of the Eden, clear, rapid and full as ever, winding below with views of the castle and town, gave much employment to the mirror. Footnote. Mr. Gray carried usually with him on these tours a Plano Convex mirror of about four inches diameter on a black foil and bound up like a pocket book. A glass of this sort is perhaps the best and most convenient substitute for a camera obscura of anything that has hitherto been invented and maybe had of any optician. End of footnote. But now the sun was wanting and the sky overcast. Oats and barley cut everywhere but not carried in. Past Kirby Shore, Sir William Doulston's house at Acorn Bank, Winfield Park, Harthorn Oaks, Countess Pillar, Broome Castle, Mr. Brown's large new house, crossed the Eden and the Emont with its green veil and dined at three o'clock with Mrs. Buchanan at Penrith on Trout and Partridge. In the afternoon, walked up Beacon Hill a mile to the top and could see Ulzwater through an opening in the bosom of that cluster of broken mountains which the doctor well remembers. Winfield and Louther Parks, et cetera, and the craggy tops of an hundred nameless hills. These lie to the west and south. To the north, a great extent of black and dreary plains. To the east, cross fell, just visible through mists and vapours hovering round it. October the first. A grey autumnal day, the air perfectly calm and mild. Went to see Ulzwater five miles distant, soon left the Keswick Road and turned to the left through shady lines along the Vale of Emont which runs rapidly on near the way, rippling over the stones. To the right is Dale Main, a large fabric of pale red stone with nine windows in front and seven on the side, built by Mr. Hassel. Behind it, a fine lawn surrounded by woods and a long rocky eminence rising over them. A clear and brisk rivulet runs by the house to join the emont whose course is in sight and adds a small distance. Further on appears Hutton St. John, a castle-like old mansion of Mr. Huddleston. Approached done mallet, a fine pointed hill covered with wood, planted by old Mr. Hassel before mentioned, who lives always at home and delights in planting. Walked over a spongy meadow or two, and began to mount the hill through a broad straight green alley among the trees, and with some toil gained the summit. From hence saw the lake opening directly at my feet, majestic in its calmness, clear and smooth as a blue mirror, with winding shores and low points of land covered with green enclosures, white farmhouses looking out among the trees and cattle feeding. The water is almost everywhere bordered with cultivated lands, gently sloping upwards from a mile to a quarter of a mile in breadth, till they reach the feet of the mountains, which rise very rude and awful with their broken tops on either hand. Directly in front, at better than three miles distance, place fell. One of the bravest among them pushes its bold broad breast into the midst of the lake and forces it to alter its course, forming first a large bay to the left and then bending to the right. I descended down Mallet again by a side avenue that was only not perpendicular and came to Barton Bridge above the emons. Then walking through a path in the wood round the bottom of the hill came forth where the emons issues out of the lake and continued my way along its western shore close to the water and generally on a level with it. Saw a cormorant flying over it and fishing. The figure of the lake nothing resembles that laid down in our maps. It is nine miles long and it's widest under a mile in breadth. After extending itself three miles and a half in a line to south-west it turns at the foot of place fell almost due west and is here not twice the breadth of the Thames at London. It is soon again interrupted by the roots of Helvellen a lofty and very rugged mountain and spreading again turns off to the south-east and is lost among the deep recesses of the hills. To this second turning I pursued my way about four miles along its border beyond a village scattered among trees and called Water Millock in a pleasant grave day perfectly calm and warm but without a gleam of sunshine. Then the sky seeming to thicken and the valley to grow more desolate and the evening drawing on I returned by the way I came to Penrith October the second I set out at ten for Keswick by the road we went in 1767 saw Greystock town and castle to the right which lie about three miles from Ulzwater over the fells passed through Penrithoch and Threlkeld at the foot of Saddleback whose furrowed sides were guilt by the noonday sun whilst its brow appeared of a sad purple from the shadow of the clouds as they sailed slowly by it. The broad and green valley of Gardis and Lucide with a swift stream glittering among the cottages and meadows lay to the left and the much finer but narrower valley beyonds opening into it. Hilltop the large though low mansion of the Gasgaths that were farmhouse seated on an eminence among woods under a steep fell was what appeared the most conspicuous and beside it a great rock like some ancient tower nodding to its fall passed by the side of Skidore and its cub called Latrig and saw from an eminence at two miles distance the veil of Elysium in all its verdure the sun then playing on the bosom of the lake and lighting up all the mountains with its luster dined by two o'clock at the queen's head and then struggled out alone to the parsonage where I saw the sunset in all its glory October the third a heavenly day rose at seven and walked out under the conduct of my landlord to Borodale the grass was covered with a whore frost which soon melted and exhaled in a thin blueish smoke crossed the meadows obliquely catching a diversity of views among the hills over the lake and islands and changing prospect as every ten paces left Cuxhut which we formally mounted and Castle Hill a loftier and more rugged hill behind me and drew near the foot of Wallor Crag whose bear and rocky brow cuts perpendicularly down above four hundred feet as I guess though the people called it much more awfully overlooks the way our path here tends to the left and the ground gently rising and covered with a glade of scattering trees and bushes on the very margin of the water opens both ways the most delicious view that my eyes ever beheld opposite are the thick woods of Lord Egremont and Newland Valley with green and smiling fields embosomed in the dark cliffs to the left the jaws of Borodale with that turbulent chaos of mountain behind mountain rolled in confusion beneath you and stretching far away to the right the shining purity of the lake reflecting rocks woods fields and inverted tops of hills just ruffled by the breeze enough to show it is alive with the white buildings of Keswick Crossthwaite Church and Skidore for a background at a distance behind you the magnificent heights of Wallor Crag here the glass played its part divinely the place is called Carve Close Reeds and I chose to set down these barbarous names that anybody may acquire on the place and easily find the particular station that I mean this scene continues to barrogate and a little farther passing a brook or Barrowbeck we entered Borodale the crags named Lodore Banks begin now to impond terribly over your way and more terribly when you hear that three years since an immense mass of rock tumbled at once from the brow and barred all access to the dale for this is the only road till they could work their way through it luckily no one was passing by at the time of this fall but down the side of the mountain and far into the lake light dispersed the huge fragments of this ruin in all shapes and in all directions something farther we turned aside into a coppice ascending a little in front of Lodore waterfall the height appeared to be about 200 feet the quantity of water not great though these three days accepted it had rained daily in the hills for nearly two months before but then the stream was nobly broken leaping from rock to rock and foaming with fury on one side a towering crag that spired up to equal if not overtop the neighbouring cliffs this lay all in shade and darkness on the other hand a rounder broader projecting hill shagged with wood and illuminated by the sun which glanced sideways on the upper part of the cataract the force of the water wearing a deep channel in the ground hurries away to join the lake we descended again and passed the stream over a rude bridge soon after we came under Gouda Crag a hill more formidable to the eye and to the apprehension than that of Lodore the rocks at the top deep cloven perpendicularly by the rains the loose and nodding forwards seemed just starting from their base in shivers the whole way down and the road on both sides is strewed with piles of the fragments strangely thrown across each other and of a dreadful bulk the place reminds me of those passes in the Alps where the guys tell you to move on with speed and say nothing lest the agitation of the air should loosen the snows above and bring down a mass that would overwhelm a caravan I took their council here and hastened on in silence the hills here are closed all up to their steep sides with oak, ash, birch, holly etc some of it has been cut 40 years ago some within these 8 years yet all is sprung again green, flourishing and tall for its age in a place where no soil appears but the staring rock and where a man could scare stand upright here we met a civil young farmer overseeing his reapers for it is now oat harvest who conducted us to a neat white house in the village of Grange which is built on a rising ground in the midst of a valley round it the mountains form an awful amphitheatre and through it obliquely runs the derwent clear as glass and showing under its bridge every trout that passes beside the village rises around eminence of a rock covered entirely with old trees and over that more proudly towers castle crag invested also with wood on its sides and bearing on its naked top some traces of a fort said to be Roman by the side of this hill which almost blocks up the way the valley turns to the left and contracts its dimensions till there is hardly any road but the rocky bed of the river the wood of the mountains increases and their summits grow loftier to the eye and of more fantastic forms among them appear eagles clift doves nest white-dale pike etc celebrated names in the annals of Keswick the dale opens about four miles higher till you come to Seathwait where lies the way mounting the hills to the right that leads to the Wadmines where farther access is here barred to prying mortals only there is a little path winding over the fells and for some weeks in the year passable to the dalesmen but the mountains know well that these innocent people will not reveal the mysteries of their ancient kingdom the reign of chaos and old night only I learned that this dreadful road dividing again leads one branch to Ravenglass and the other to Hawke's head for me I went no farther than the farmers better than four miles from Keswick at Grange his mother and he brought us butter that Cicero would have jumped at though not in a lordly dish bowls of milk, thin oating-cakes and ale and we had carried a cold tongue thither with us our farmer was himself the man that last year plundered the eagle's eerie all the dale are up in arms on such an occasion for they lose abundance of lambs yearly not to mention hairs, partridges, grouse etc he was let down from the cliff in ropes to the shelf of the rock on which the nest was built the people above shouting and hallowing to fright the old birds which flew screaming round but did not dare to attack him he brought off the eaglet for there is rarely more than one and an adult egg the nest was roundish and more than a yard over made of twigs twisted together seldom a year passes but they take the brood or eggs and sometimes they shoot one sometimes the other parent but the survivor has always found a mate probably an island and they breed near the old place by his description I learned that this species is the urn the vulture Abyssilla of Linnaeus in his last edition but in yours Falco Abyssilla so consult him and penance about it we returned leisurely home the way we came but saw a new landscape the features indeed were the same in part but many new ones were disclosed by the midday sun and the tents were entirely changed take notice this was the best or perhaps the only day for going up Skidore but I thought it better employed it was perfectly serene and hot as midsummer in the evening I walked alone down to the lake by the side of Crow Park after sunset and saw the solemn colouring of the night draw on the last gleam of sunshine fading away on the hilltops the deep serene of the waters and the long shadows of the mountains thrown across them till they nearly touched the most shore at a distance were heard the murmurs of many waterfalls not audible in the daytime I wished for the moon but she was dark to me and silent hid in her vacant interluna cave October the 4th I walked to Crow Park now a rough pasture once a glade of ancient oaks whose large roots still remain in the ground but nothing has sprung from them if one single tree had remained this would have been an unparalleled spot and Smith judged right when he took his print of the lake from hence for it is a gentle eminence not too high on the very margin of the water and commanding it from end to end looking full into the gorge of Borrowdale I prefer it even to Cockshut Hill which lies beside it and to which I walked in the afternoon it is covered with young trees both sown and planted oak spruce scotch fur etc all which thrive wonderfully there is an easier scent to the top and the view far preferable to that on Castle Hill which you remember because this is lower and nearer to the lake for I find all points that are much elevated spoil the beauty of the valley and make its parts which are not large look poor and diminutive footnote the picture s point is always thus low in all prospects a truth which though the landscape painter knows he cannot always observe since the patron who employs him to take a view of his place usually carries him to some elevation for that purpose in order I suppose that he may have more of him for his money yet when I say this I would not be thought to mean that a drawing should be made from the lowest point possible as for instance in this very view from the lake itself for then a foreground would be wanting on this account when I sailed on Durwent water I did not receive so much pleasure from the superb amphitheater of mountains around me as when like Mr Gray I traversed its margin and therefore think he did not lose much by not taking boats end of footnote while I was here a little shower fell red clouds marching up the hills from the east and part of a bright rainbow seemed to rise along the side of Castle Hill from hence I got to the parsonage a little before sunset and saw in my glass a picture that if I could transmit it to you and fix it in all the softness of its living colours would fairly sell for a thousand pounds this is the sweetest scene I can yet discover in point of pastoral beauty the rest are in a sublima style October the fifth I walk through the meadows and cornfields to the Durwent and crossing it went up to Howe Hill it looks along Basinthwaite water and sees at the same time the course of the river and a part of the upper lake with a full view of Skidor then I took my way through Portingscale village to the park a hill so called covered entirely with wood it is all a mass of crumbling slate passed round its foot between trees and the edge of the water and came to a peninsula that juts out into the lake and looks along it both ways in front rises Wollaw Crag and Castle Hill the town the road to Penrith Skidor and Saddleback returning met a brisk and cold north-eastern blast that ruffled all the surface of the lake and made it rise in little waves that broke at the foot of the wood after dinner walked up the Penrith Road two miles or more and turning into a cornfield to the right called Castle Rig saw a druid circle of large stones 108 feet in diameter the biggest not 8 feet high but most of them still erect they are 50 in number footnote see this piece of antiquity more fully described with a plate annexed by Mr Pennant in his second tour to Scotland in 1772 page 38 end of footnote the valley of St. John's appeared in sight at the summits of Cachidicam called by Camden, Casticand and Helve Ellen said to be as high as Skidor and to rise from a much higher base October the 6th went in a shares 8 miles along the east side of Basinthwaite water to Ooze Bridge the road in some parts made and very good the rest slippery and dangerous cart road or narrow rugged lanes with no precipices it runs directly along the foot of Skidor opposite to Whidhope Browse closed to the top with wood a very beautiful view opens down to the lake which is narrower and longer than that of Keswick less broken into bays and without islands footnote it is somewhat extraordinary that Mr Gray omitted to mention the islands on Derwent Water one of which I think they call the Vickers Island makes a principal object in the scene see Smith's view of Derwent Water end of footnote at the foot of it a few paces from the brink gently sloping upwards stands Armathwaite in a thick grove of scotch furs commanding a noble view directly up the lake at a small distance behind the house is a large extent of wood and still behind this a ridge of cultivated hills on which according to the Keswick proverb the sun always shines the inhabitants here on the country call the Vale of Derwent Water the devil's chamber pot and pronounce the name of Skidor Fel which terminates here with a sort of terror and aversion Armathwaite house is a modern fabric not large and built of dark red stone belonging to Mr Spedding whose grandfather was steward to Ulcer James Lover and bought this estate of the Heimers the sky was overcast and the wind cool so after dining at a public house near the bridge that crosses the Derwent just where it issues from the lake and sauntering a little by the water side I came home again the turnpike is finished from Cockermouth Hiver 5 miles and is carrying on to Penrith several little showers today a man came in who said there was snow on Crossfell this morning October the 7th I walked in the morning to Crow Park rolling up Penrith Road the clouds came rolling up the mountains all round very dark yet the moon shone at intervals it was too damp to go towards the lake tomorrow I mean to bid farewell to Keswick Botany might be studied here to great advantage at another season because of the great variety of soils and elevations all lying within a small compass I observed nothing but several curious lichens and plenty of gale or dutch myrtle perfuming the borders of the lake this year the Wodmine had been opened which is done once in five years it is taken out in lumps sometimes as big as a man's fist and will undergo no preparation by fire not being fusible when it is pure soft black and loose grained it is worth sometimes 30 shillings a pound there are no char ever taken in these lakes but plenty in Buttermere water which lies a little way north of Borodale about Martin mass which are potted here they sow chiefly oats and big here which are now cutting and still on the ground the rains have done much hurt yet observe the soil is so thin and light that no day has passed in which I could not walk out with ease and you know I am no lover of dirt fell mutton is now in season for about six weeks it grows fat on the mountains and nearly resembles venison excellent pike and perch here called bass trout is out of season partridge in great plenty October the 8th I left Keswick and took the ambleside road in a gloomy morning and about two miles from the town footnote further a mile and footnote mounted an eminence called castle rig and the sun breaking out discovered the most enchanting view I have yet seen of the whole valley behind me the two lakes the river the mountains in all their glory so that I had almost a mind to have gone back again the road in some few parts is not completed yet good country road through sound but narrow and stony lanes very safe in broad daylight this is the case about causeway foot and among nadlfels to length wait the veil you go in has little breath the mountains are vast and rocky the fields little and poor and the inhabitants are now making hay and see not the sun by two hours in a day so long as at Keswick came to the foot of hellvellen along which runs an excellent road looking down from a little height on leith's water called also thulmear or wyburn water and soon descending on its margin the lake looks black from its depth and from the gloom of the vast crags that scowl over it though really clear as glass it is narrow and about three miles long resembling a river in its course little shining torrents hurrying down the rocks to join it but not a bush to overshadow them or cover their march all is rock and loose stones up to the very brow which lies so near your way that not above half the height of hellvelling can be seen next I passed by the little chapel of wyburn out of which the sunday congregation were then issuing soon after a beck near Dunmail Rise where entered Westmilland for a second time and now began to see home crag but not so much by its height as by the strange broken outlines of its top like some gigantic building demolished and the stones that composed it flung across each other in wild confusion just beyond it opens one of the sweetest landscapes that art ever attempted to imitate the bosom of the mountains spreading here into a broad basin discovers in the midst of grassmere water its margin is hollowed into small bays with bold eminences some of rock, some of turf that half conceal and vary the figure of the little lake they command from the shore a low promontory pushes itself far into the water and on it stands a white village with the parish church rising in the midst of it hanging enclosures, cornfields and meadows green as an emerald with their trees and hedges and cattle fill up the whole space from the edge of the water and just opposite to you is a large farmhouse at the bottom of a steep smooth lawn embosomed in old woods which climb half way up the mountain side and discover above them a broken line of crags that crown the scene not a single red tile no gentleman's flaring house or garden walls break in upon the repose of this little inspected paradise but all is peace, rusticity and happy poverty in its neatest most becoming attire the road winds here over grassmere hill whose rock soon conceal the water from your sight yet it is continued along behind them and contracting itself to a river communicates with riddle water another small lake but of inferior size and beauty it seems shallow too the patches of reeds appear pretty far within it into this veil the road descends on the opposite banks large and ancient woods mount up the hills and just to the left of our way stands Ridle Hall the family seat of Sir Michael LeFlemming a large old fashioned fabric rounded with wood Sir Michael is now on his travels and all this timber far and wide belongs to him near the house rises a huge crag called Ridle Head which is said to command a full view of Windermere and I doubt it not for within a mile that the lake is visible even from the road as to going up the crag one might as well go up Skidor I now reached Ambleside 18 miles from Keswick meaning to lie there but on looking into the best bed chamber dark and damp as a cellar grew delicate gave up Windermere in despair and resolved I would go on to Kendall directly 14 miles farther footnote by not staying a little at Ambleside Mr. Gray lost the sight of two magnificent Cascades the one not half a mile behind the inn the other down Ridle Crag where Sir Michael LeFlemming is now making a pathway to the top of it these when I saw them were in full torrent whereas low door waterfall which I visited in the evening of the very same day was almost without a stream hence I conclude that this distinguished feature in the Vale of Keswick is like the most northern rivers only in high beauty during bad weather but his greatest loss was in not seeing a small waterfall visible only through the window of a ruined summer house in Sir Michael's Orchard here nature has performed everything in little that she usually executes on her larger scale and on that account like the miniature painter seems to have finished every part of it in a studded manner not a little fragment of rock thrown into the basin not a little stem of brushwood that starts from its craggy sides but has its picturesque meaning and the little central stream dashing down a cleft of the darkest coloured stone produces an effect of light and shadow beautiful beyond description this little theatrical scene might be painted as large as the original on a canvas not bigger than those usually dropped in the opera house there is a cascade at Nunnery near Kirkerswald in Cumberland much in the same style as this the accompaniments are as beautiful the basin larger and the perpendicular fall 18 feet end of footnote the road in general fine term pike but some parts about 3 miles in all not made yet without danger for this determination I was unexpectedly well rewarded for the afternoon was fine and the road for the space of full 5 miles ran along the side of Windermere with delicious views across it and almost from one end to the other it is 10 miles in length and at most a mile over resembling the course of some vast and magnificent river but no flat marshy grounds no osier beds or patches of scrubby plantations on its banks at the head two valleys open among the mountains one that by which we came down the other Langdale in which rhinos and hardknot two great mountains rise above the rest from thence the fells visibly sink and soften along its sides sometimes they run into it with a gentle declivity in their own dark and natural complexion often they are green and cultivated with farms interspersed and round eminences on the border covered with trees towards the south it seems a break into large bays with several islands and a wider extent of cultivation the way rises continually to let a place called Orrist Head it turns south east losing sight of the water passed by Ings Chapel and Stavely but I can say no further for the dusk of the evening coming on I entered Kendall almost in the dark and could distinguish only a shadow of the castle on a hill and tentergrounds spread far and wide around the town which I mistook for houses my inn promised sadly having two wooden galleries like Scotland in front of it it was indeed an old ill-contrived house but kept by civil sensible people so I stayed two nights with them and fared and slept very comfortably October the 9th the air mild as summer all corn off the ground and the skylark singing aloud by the way I saw not one at Keswick perhaps because the place abounds in birds of prey I went up the castle hill the town chiefly consists of three nearly parallel streets almost a mile long except these all the other houses seem as if they had been dancing a country dance and were out there they stand back to back corner to corner some uphill some down without intent or meaning along by their side runs a fine brisk stream over which there are three stone bridges the buildings a few comfortable houses accepted are mean of stone and covered with a bad rough cast footnotes the accounts of things given by hasty travelers are generally inaccurate and often injudicious as to the principal streets of Kendall they are neither three in number nor nearly parallel they are but two one about a mile in length these streets contain indeed but few elegant houses they are however on the whole as open and well built as in most other towns as to the bad rough cast our author speaks of judges of rough cast have always supposed this country no way deficient either in its materials or in the manner of laying it on end of footnote near the end of the town stands a colonel wilson's and adjoining to it the church a very large gothic fabric with a square tower it has no particular ornaments but double aisles and at the east end four chapels or choirs one of the pars, another of the Strickland's the third is the proper choir of the church and the fourth of the Bellingham's a family now extinct in 1577 with a flat brass arms and quarterings and in the window their arms alone Argent a hunting horn sable strong ghouls in the Strickland's chapel several monuments and another old altar tomb not belonging to the family on the side of it a fest density between 10 bea d'ancourt in the pars chapel is a third room in the corner no figure or inscription but on the side cut an escutcheon of Ross of Kendall three water budgets quartering pars in a bordure engrailed secondly an escutcheon a fest for Marmion thirdly an escutcheon three chevronels braced and a chief which I take for Fitzhugh at the foot is an escutcheon surrounded with the garter bearing Ross and Parr quartering the other two before mentioned I have no books to look in therefore cannot say whether this is the lord Parr of Kendall Queen Catherine's father or her brother the Marquis of Northampton perhaps it is a senator for the latter who was buried at Warwick in 1571 the remains of the castle are seated on a fine hill on the side of the river opposite the town almost the whole enclosure of the walls remains with four towers two square and two round but their upper parts and embattlements are demolished it is of rough stone and cement without any ornament or arms round enclosing a court of like form and surrounded by a moat nor ever could it have been larger than it is for there are no traces of outworks there is a good view of the town and river with a fertile open valley through which it winds after dinner I went along the Milthrop Turnpike four miles to see the falls or force of the river Kent came to Caesar and turned down a lane to the left this seat of the Stricklands an old Catholic family is an ancient hall house with a very large tower embattled the rest of the buildings added to it are of a later date but all is white and seen to advantage on a background of old trees there is a small park also well wooded opposite to this turning to the left I soon came to the river it works its way in a narrow and deep rocky channel over hung with trees the calmness and brightness of the evening the roar of the waters and the thumping of huge hammers at an iron forge not far distant made it a singular walk but as to the falls for there are two they are not four feet high I went on down to the forge and saw the demons at work by the light of their own fires the iron is brought in pigs to Milthrop by sea from Scotland etc and is here beaten to bars and plates two miles further at Levens is the seat of Lord Suffolk where he sometimes passes the summer it was a favourite place of his late countess but this I did not see October 10th I proceeded by Burton to Lancaster 22 miles, very good country well enclosed and wooded with some common interspersed passed at the foot of Faltern Knot a high fell four miles north of Lancaster on a rising ground called Bowton we had a full view of Cartmel Sands with here and there a passenger riding over them it's being low water the points of Furnace shooting far into the sea and lofty mountains partly covered with clouds extending north of them Lancaster also appeared very conspicuous and fine for its most distinguished features the castle and church mounted on a green eminence were all that could be seen woe is me when I got thither it was the second day of their fair the inn in the principal street was a great old gloomy house full of people but I found tolerable quarters and even slept two nights in peace in a fine afternoon I ascended the castle hill it takes up the higher top of the eminence on which it stands and is irregularly round encompassed with a deep moat in front towards the town is a magnificent gothic gateway lofty and huge the overhanging battlements are supported by a triple range of corbells the intervals pierced through and showing the day from above on its top rise light watchtowers of small height it opens below with a grand pointed arch over this is a wrought tabernacle doubtless once containing its founders figure on one side a shield of France semi quartered with England on the other the same with a label, ermine for John of Gaunt Duke of Lancaster this opens to a court within which I did not much care to enter being the county jail and full of prisoners both criminals and debtors from this gateway the walls continue and join into a vast square tower of great height the lower part at least of remote antiquity for it has small round headed lights with plain short pillars on each side of them there is a third tower also square and of less dimensions this is all the castle near it and but little lower stands the church a large and plain gothic fabric the high square tower at the west end has been rebuilt of late years but nearly in the same style there are no ornaments of arms etc anywhere to be seen within it is lightsome and spacious but not one monument of antiquity or piece of painted glasses left from the churchyard there is an extensive sea view for now the tide had almost covered the sands and filled the river and besides the greatest part of furnace I could distinguish Peel Castle on the Isle of Faudry which lies off its southern extremity the town is built on the slope and at the foot of the castle hill more than twice the bigness of Auckland with many neat buildings of white stone but a little disorderly in their position and Adelibitam like Kendall many also extend below on the keys by the riverside where a number of ships were moored some of them three masted vessels decked out with their colours in honour of the fair a bridge of four arches over the loon that runs when the tide is out in two streams divided by a bed of gravel which is not covered but in spring tides below the town it widens to near the breadth of the Thames at London and meets the sea at five or six miles distance to the south west October the 11th I crossed the river and walked over a peninsula three miles to the village of Poulton which stands on the beach an old fisherman mending his nets while I inquired about the danger of passing those sands told me in his dialect a moving story how a brother of the trade a cockler as he styled him driving a little cart with two daughters women grown in it and his wife on horse back following set out one day to pass the seven mile sands as they had been frequently used to do for nobody in the village knew them better than the old man did when they were about half way over a thick fog rose and as they advanced they found the water much deeper than they expected the old man was puzzled he stopped and said he would go a little way to find some mark he was acquainted with they stayed a while for him but in vain they called aloud but no reply at last the young women pressed their mother to think where they were and go on she would not leave the place she wandered about full on and amazed she would not quit her horse and get into the cart with them they determined after much time wasted to turn back and give themselves up to the guidance of their horses the old woman was soon washed off and perished the poor girls clung close to their cart and the horse sometimes wading and sometimes swimming brought them back to land alive but senseless with terror and distress and unable for many days to give any account of themselves the bodies of their parents were found the next ebb that of the father a very few paces distant from the spot where he had left them in the afternoon I wandered about the town and by the key till it grew dark October the 12th I set out for settle by a fine turnpike road 29 miles through a rich and beautiful country diversified with frequent villages and churches very unequal ground and on the left the river loon winding in a deep valley it's hanging banks clothed with fine woods through which you catch long reaches of the water as the road winds about at a considerable height above it in the most picturesque part of the way past the park belonging to the honourable Mr Clifford a Catholic the grounds between him and the river are indeed charming the house is ordinary and park nothing but a rocky fell scattered over with ancient hawthorns footnote this scene opens just three miles from Lancaster on what is called the Queen's Road to see the view in perfection you must go into a field on the left here Engelburre behind a variety of lesser mountains makes the background of this prospect on each hand of the middle distance rise two sloping hills the left clothed with thick woods the right with variegated rock and herbage between them in the richest of valleys the loon serpentises for many a mile and comes forth ample and clear through a well-wooded and richly pastured foreground every feature which constitutes the perfect landscape of the extensive sort is here not only boldly marked but also in his best position end of footnote when I came to Hornby a little town on the river Wenning over which a handsome bridge is now building the castle in a lordly situation attracted me so I walked up the hill to it first presents itself a large white ordinary aged gentleman's house and behind it rises the ancient keep built by Edward Stanley Lord Montagle he died about 1529 in King Henry the 8th's time it is now only a shell the rafters are laid within it as for flooring I went up a winding stone staircase in one corner to the leads and at the angle is a single hexagon watchtower and some feet higher fitted up in the taste of modern summer house with sash windows in gilt frames a stucco coupler and on the top a vast gilt eagle built by Mr. Charteris the present possessor he is the second son of the Earl of Weems brother to the Lord Elco and grandson to Colonel Charteris whose name he bears from the leads of the tower there is a fine view of the country round and much wood near the castle Ingleborough which I had seen before distinctly at Lancaster to North East was completely wrapped in clouds all but its summit which might have been easily mistaken for a long black cloud too fraught with an approaching storm now our road began gradually to mount towards the apennine the trees growing less and thinner of leaves to Engelton 18 miles it is a pretty village situated very high and yet in a valley at the foot of that huge monster of nature Ingleborough two torrents cross it with great stones rolled along their beds instead of water and over them are flung two handsome arches the nipping air though the afternoon was growing very bright now taught as we were in Craven the road was all up and down though nowhere very steep to the left were mountain tops to the right a wide valley all enclosed ground and beyond it high hills again an approaching settle the crags on the left drew nearer to our way till we descended Brunton Brow into a cheerful valley though thin of trees to Giggleswick a village with a small piece of water by its side covered with coots near it a church which belongs also to settle and half a mile farther having passed the Ribble over a bridge I arrived there it is a small market town standing directly under a rocky fell there are not in it above a dozen good-looking houses the rest are old and low with little wooden porticoes in front my inn pleased me much though small for the neatness and civility of the good woman that kept it so I lay there two nights and went October the 13th to visit the Gordale Scar which lay six miles from settle but that way was directly over a fell and as the weather was not to be depended on I went round in a chaise the only way one could get near it in a carriage which made it full 13 miles half of it such a road but I got safe over it so there's an end I came to Malham pronounced Maum a village in the bosom of the mountains seated in a wild and dreary valley from thence I was to walk a mile over very rough ground a torrent rattling along on the left hand on the cliffs above hung a few goats one of them danced and scratched an ear with its hind foot in a place where I would not have stood stock still for all beneath the moon as I advanced the crags seemed to close in but discovered a narrow entrance turning to the left between them I followed my guide a few paces and the hills opened again into no large space and then all further away is barred by a stream that at the height of about 50 feet gushes from a hole in the rock and spreading in large sheets over its broken front dashes from steep to steep and then rattles away in a torrent down the valley the rock on the left rises perpendicular with stubbed u-trees and shrubs starting from its sides to the height of at least 300 feet but these are not the thing it is the rock to the right under which you stand to see the fall that forms the principal horror of the place from its very base it begins to slope forward over you in one black or solid mass without any crevice in its surface and overshadows half the area below its dreadful canopy when I stood at, I believe four yards distant from its foot the drops which perpetually distilled from its brow fell on my head and in one part of its top more exposed to the weather there are loose stones that hang in the air and threaten visibly some idle spectator with instant destruction it is safer to shelter yourself close to its bottom and trust to the mercy of that enormous mass which nothing but an earthquake can stir the gloomy uncomfortable day well suited the savage aspect of the place and made it still more formidable I stayed there not without shuddering a quarter of an hour and thought my trouble richly paid for the impression will last for life at the ale house where I dined in Malham Vivares the landscape painter had lodged for a week or more Smith and Bellas had also been there and two Prince of Gordale have been engraved by them October the 14th leaving my comfortable in to which I had returned from Gordale I set out for Skipton 16 miles from several parts of the road and in many places about settle I saw at once the three famous hills of this country Ingleborough Penneganze and Pendle the first is esteemed the highest and their features not to be described but by the pencil Craven after all is an unpleasing country when seen from a height its valleys are chiefly wide and either marshy or enclosed pasture with a few trees numbers of black cattle are fatted here both of the Scotch breed and a larger sort of oxen with great horns there is little cultivated ground except a few oats Skipton to which I went through Long Preston and Gargrave is a pretty large market town in a valley with one very broad street gently sloping downwards from the castle which stands at the head of it this is one of the good Countess's buildings Footnote and Countess of Pembroke but on old foundations it is not very large but of a handsome antique appearance with round towers a grand gateway bridge and a boat surrounded by many old trees it is in good repair and kept up as the habitation of the Earl of Thanet though he rarely comes nither what with the sleet and a foolish dispute about chases that delayed me I did not see the inside of it on 15 miles to Ottley first up Shodbank the steepest hill I ever saw a road carried over in England for it mounts in a straight line without any other repose for the horses than by placing stones every now and then behind the wheels for a full mile then the road goes on a level along the brow of this high hill over Rumbaldmoor till it gently descends into Walldale they call the Vale of the Wharf and a beautiful veil it is well wooded, well cultivated well inhabited but with high crags at a distance that's bordered the green country on either hand through the midst of it deep clear full to the brink and of no inconsiderable breadth runs in long windings the river how it comes to pass that it should be so fine and copious a stream here and a tadcaster so much lower nothing but a wide stony channel without water I cannot tell you I pass through Long addingham Ilkley, pronounced Eakley, distinguished by a lofty brow of loose rocks to the right Berkeley, a neat and pretty village among trees on the opposite side of the river lay Middleton Lodge belonging to a Catholic gentleman of that name Western a venerable stone fabric with large offices of Mr. Vavasor the meadows in front gently descending to the water and behind a great and shady wood farmly Mr. Forks's a place like the last but larger and rising higher on the side of the hill Ottley is a large airy town with clean but low rustic buildings and a bridge over the wharf I went into its spacious gothic church which has been new roofed with a flat stucco ceiling in a corner of it is the monument of Thomas Lord Fairfax and Helen Ask His Lady descended from the Cliffords and Latimers as her epitaph says the figures are not ill cut particularly his in armour but bareheaded lie on the tomb I take them to be the parents of the famous Sir Thomas Fairfax End of part 4