scribable grandeur. No one, however stout may be his nerves, can look upon it without an emotion of terror, if it always be that gloomy abyss it was on the afternoon of our visit. With me, it produced a temporary alienation of mind, and a giddiness of the brain, as we descended slowly for some thousands of feet down a steep and rugged declivity into the depth of the vale. To form some idea of this gulf, let the reader imagine a rampart of mountains, of about the height of the Catskill, with dark and nearly perpendicular sides, extending three-fourths round a circle, and terminated at one end by the two Pikes, mentioned in another part of this letter. Let him imagine, that on the battlements of this eternal fortress, the clouds are constantly dashing, breaking and rolling down the sides, sometimes entirely concealing, and at others disclosing masses of the rock. Let him add to this simple, but sublime combination of elements, here and there a torrent, in its descent becoming a belt of foam, and its source lost to the eye in the obscurity above. The foliage, grass and moss-grown thatches of the few huts which are scattered over the vale, imbibing the hue of the surrounding scenery, assume a yellowish tinge, resembling that produced by an eclipse of the sun.

The wildness and loneliness of the dale as night approached induced us to hasten our retreat; but in this there was more difficulty than in entering, arduous as was the descent. In many places the path, or rather track, leading through the gates and enclosures of shepherds entirely disappears. Taking a wrong direction in one instance, we found ourselves after riding a mile, in the midst of a morass, and came to a full stop at a small brook which runs through it. A kind old lady observing us in difficulty, came half a mile from her cottage to our relief, and sent us back to the right road.

To add to our troubles, it now commenced raining; and having yet twelve miles to ride over an intricate and unknown road, we began to think it would be necessary to look out for a shelter for the night. But a happier issue awaited us. The rain soon ceased, and a pleasant evening followed. Passing Elter Water, a small lake, with green, cultivated shores, about which there is nothing very remarkable, except a curious conical mount rising from its bosom, and composed of rock slightly veiled with verdure; as also Loughrigg Tarn, one of the largest and prettiest of its class, slumbering quietly among the hills, we arrived at Lake Grasmere, so

much and so justly admired by the poet Gray, who visited it in the year 1769, and gave a description of it in a letter to a friend.

We saw it under very favourable circumstances, approaching from the west just before sunset, to the brow of the mountain called Loughrigg, whence its beauties burst suddenly upon the eye. From a crag forming the summit of the hill, to which we climbed, the whole of the lake and the secluded vale in which it is situated are distinctly seen at a glance. It is surrounded on all sides by lofty mountains and broken rocks, except an opening to the south-west through which the Rothay flows, and a narrow pass towards the north-east called Dunmail Raise. Its length is about three miles, and its breadth one. Near its western shore there is a small green island tufted with trees, and crowned with a cottage. From the eastern side, a low cultivated promontory, projects far into the lake, upon which stands a pretty village. The borders around the whole circumference consist of rich fields and woods, studded with seats, farm-houses, and cottages. Every object within the vale appears to be in exact proportion, and to harmonize perfectly with the picture. In symmetry, richness, and softness of landscape nothing about the lakes surpasses Grasmere,

LETTER XIX.

ENGLISH LAKES CONTINUED-THIRLMERE--VALE OF KESWICK DERWENT WATER--BASSENTHWAITE--BORROW.

DALE-WAST WATER-FURNESS ABBEY-ENNERDALE

LOWES WATER-CRUMMOCK-BUTTERMERE-EXCURSION TO THE TOP OF SKIDDAW-VISIT TO THE POET LAUREATE.

September, 1825.-On the 14th we left Ambleside for Keswick. The weather was fine, and the ride along the shores of Rydal Water and Grasmere was enchanting. Our exit from the vale, in which the latter lake is embosomed, was through the singular gap, denominated Dunmail Raise. By the side of the way, there is a heap of stones, in the form of a barrow, to perpetuate the memory of a battle fought in the 10th cen tury between Edmund the First, and a King of Cumberland,

in which the former was victorious, putting out the eyes of the two sons of the latter.

The vista of hills opening towards the north from this point is extremely fine. On the left, Eagle Crag rears its grey and rugged mass of rock, entirely destitute of every species of vegetation, and contrasting admirably with the cloud-capt Helvellyn, on the right, which is one of the loftiest mountains in all this region. The sides are clothed with verdure to its top, to which the mists perpetually hanging round its brow, impart a vivid complexion. Several torrents dash headlong down the deeply scarred declivities. In front, Skiddaw and Saddleback, hills of the first class, at the distance of eight or ten miles terminate the view. Thirlmere or Leathes' Water occupies the bottom of this defile, along the margin of which the road passes its whole length, being between two and three miles. It is a dark, stern, and wild lake, with bold shores, and possessing none of that softness of landscape, which characterizes Grasmere. Much the most picturesque view upon its borders is about half way between Ambleside and Keswick, near a little one-story church, seated at the foot of Helvellyn and looking to its very summit, over which the sun but just peeps at noonday. Thirlmere is the highest of the lakes, its bed being 500 feet above the level of the sea. It would be an endless task to enumerate all the interesting objects crowded into this narrow defile.

After passing Green Crag, a high, broken rock which overhangs the glen in the most romantic manner imaginable, we reached an eminence called Castle-rigg, whence the vale of Keswick, in all its glory burst suddenly upon our view, illuminated by a bright noon-day sun. The poet Gray states in his letter, that on reaching this point, after a long visit to Keswick, and turning round to take a farewell glance of the scenery he was leaving, the prospect was so fascinating as strongly to tempt him to return. But it did not require the authority of a man of so much taste, to render us susceptible to the charms of such scenery. Nature has here wantoned in the richness of the landscape, and left no feature unfinished. All that hills, valleys, woods, and waters, in their sweetest and most delicate combinations can effect, challenges the admiration of the spectator. Before him stretches a vale many miles in extent, surrounded on all sides by mountains, the highest of which is about three thousand feet, Four or

five narrow passes open into the valley from different quarters, up which the eye travels till it is lost among the hills. On one side, Derwent Water, of a circular form, and its bosom studded with several wooded islands, slumbers at the bases of the mountains, between Newlands and Borrowdale. On the opposite side, Lake Bassenthwaite extends towards the north-west, till its waters are hidden by the hills upon its borders. The intermediate space is a level and fertile tract of alluvion, through which flow the outlet of Derwent Water, and another beautiful stream, called the Greta. In the midst of the basin, the village of Keswick rises to view; and in all directions, handsome seats, copses of large trees, fields, farm-houses, and cottages fill up the outlines of the picture.

Leaving the coach on Castle-rigg, we lingered for an hour along the road, climbing every eminence by the way, and every moment catching some new object in the landscape. Immediately after arriving at the hotel, we engaged a guide, and in twenty minutes our little boat was gliding over the waves of Derwent Water, which was entirely circumnavigated in the course of the afternoon, making a circuit of five or six miles. We landed upon Vicar's Isle, containing half a dozen acres of ground, beautifully wooded and crowned with a handsome mansion belonging to General Peachy. His agent conducted us over the house which contains some good pictures and statuary; among the rest, a fine bust of Dr. Southey.

Our next landing was at the entrance of Borrowdale, for the purpose of visiting the waterfall of Lowdore, called in the guide books "the Niagara of the English lakes!" The name excited high expectations; and the thunders of our Own cataract in fancy began to vibrate upon our ears. But it was

only fancy; for Lowdore is no more like Niagara “than I like Hercules." The rocks are grand, being rudely tumbled together into a narrow pass, the walls of which are perpendicular cliffs, several hundred feet in height, with hanging woods growing from the fissures. There is also a sufficient

descent for a good cataract; but the stream is small, gurgling down among the rocks. What astonishment would it cause in an honest John Bull, who has borrowed his image of Niagara from this brook, could he see all of a sudden the green and billowy torrent of that river come tumbling down the glen, sweeping away fragments of rocks, and making the hills tremble!

Our excursion was continued by landing upon Lord's Island, the largest in the lake, and covered with heavy timber. It was connected with the shore by a bridge; and received its name from having been the residence of Lord Derwentwater, whose immense estates were forfeited, and himself executed for treason. The ruins of the mansion are yet visible, covered with tangled bushes and brambles. There is a cliff on the shore opposite to this island, up which it is said the lady of Lord Derwentwater made her escape, after her husband was arrested, although it is apparently too steep and giddy for even the adventurous foosteps of the shepherd. His lordship's property, embracing this island, about one third of the lake, and an immense tract in the vicinity, reverted to the government, and was given to Greenwich Hospital, to which it now belongs, producing a revenue of upwards of 70,000l. per annum.

Notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, the guide took us to St. Herbert's Isle, nearly in the centre of the lake, for the purpose of visiting the site of the shrine and hermitage of the holy personage, from whom the romantic spot derives its name. Some vestiges of the cell, overgrown by a deep and dark wood, still remain. Near by stands a rustic grotto, built some twenty years ago by Sir Wilford Lawson. It is a charming retreat, beautifully shaded by large trees.

Having now completed the circuit of the lake and islands, noting in the mean time, the mountains which composed the amphitheatre around, we returned to the landing, passing a bold, woody promontory, called Friar's Crag, on which there is a promenade from the village. Three ladies, arm-in-arm, were seen upon the rocks at the extreme end, appearing like Naiads, just emerging from the crystal waters. A twilight view of Crow Park, a smooth and beautiful green, (unclassical as its name is,) extending from the margin of the lake to the village, closed the pleasures of the day.

Early next morning we once more mounted ponies, and under the direction of a guide, who had followed the business for upwards of thirty years, commenced what is here termed the "long round." It is a circuit of fifty-seven miles, extending up Borrowdale to its termination; across a hill called Stye-Head, to Wastdale; thence to Calder Bridge, and thence back to Keswick, by lakes Ennerdale, Lowes Water, Crummock, and Buttermere, making two days' ride, over a pathway sometimes hardly discernible, and