Thursday, November 8th. Incessant rain till eleven o'clock, when it became fair, and William and I walked to Blowick. Luff joined us by the way. The wind was strong, and drove the clouds forward along the side of the hill above our heads; four or five goats were bounding among the rocks; the sheep moved about more quietly, or cowered in their sheltering-places. The two storm-stiffened black yew-trees on the crag above Luff's house were striking objects, close under or seen through the flying mists. . . When we stood upon the naked crag upon the common, overlooking the woods and bush-besprinkled fields of Blowick, the lake, clouds, and mists were all in motion to the sound of sweeping winds—the church and cottages of Patterdale scarcely visible from the brightness of the thin mist. Looking backwards towards the foot of the water, the scene less visionary. Place Fell steady and bold as a lion; the whole lake driving down like a great river, waves dancing round the small islands. We walked to the house. The owner was salving sheep in the barn; an appearance of poverty and decay everywhere. He asked us if we wanted to purchase the estate. We could not but stop frequently, both in going and returning, to look at the exquisite beauty of the woods opposite. The general colour of the trees was dark-brown, rather that of ripe hazel-nuts; but towards the water there were yet beds of green, and in some of the hollow places in the highest part of the woods the trees were of a yellow colour, and through the glittering light they looked like masses of clouds as you see them gathered together in the west, and tinged with the golden light of the sun. After dinner we walked with Mrs Luff up the vale; I had never had an idea of the extent and width of it, in passing through along the road, on the other side. We walked along the path which leads from house to house; two or three times it took us through some of those copses or groves, that cover every

little hillock in the middle of the lower part of the vale, making an intricate and beautiful intermixture of lawn and woodland. We left William to prolong his walk, and when he came into the house he told us that he had pitched upon the spot where he should like to build a house better than any other he had ever yet seen. Mrs Luff went with him by moonlight to view it. The vale looked as if it were filled with white light, when the moon had climbed up to the middle of the sky; but long before we could see her face a while all the eastern hills were in black shade; those on the opposite side were almost as bright as snow. Mrs Luff's large white dog lay in the moonshine upon the round knoll under the old yew-tree, a beautiful and romantic image -the dark tree with its dark shadow, and the elegant creature as fair as a spirit.

Friday, November 9th.-It rained till near ten o'clock; but a little after that time, it being likely to be a tolerably fine day, we packed up, and with Luff's servant to help to row, set forward in the boat. As we proceeded, the day grew finer; clouds, and sunny gleams on the mountains. In a grand bay under Place Fell we saw three fishermen with a boat dragging a net, and rowed up to them. They had just brought the net ashore, and hundreds of fish were leaping in their prison. They were all of one kind, what are called Skellies. After we had left them, the fishermen continued their work, a picturesque group under the lofty and bare crags; the whole scene was very grand, a raven croaking on the mountain above our heads. Landed at Sanwick, the man took the boat home, and we pursued our journey towards the village along a beautiful summer path, at first through a copse by the lake-side, then through green fields. The village and brook very pretty, shut out from mountains and lake; it reminded me of Somersetshire. Passed by Harry Hebson's house; I longed to go in for the

sake of former times. William went up one side of the vale, and we the other, and he joined us after having crossed the one-arched bridge above the church; a beautiful view of the church, with its 'base ring of mossy wall' and single yew-tree. At the last house in the vale we were kindly greeted by the master. . . . We were well prepared to face the mountain, which we began to climb almost immediately. Martindale divides itself into two dales at the head. In one of these (that to the left) there is no house to be seen, nor any building but a cattle shed on the side of a hill which is sprinkled over with wood, evidently the remains of a forest, formerly a very extensive one. At the bottom of the other valley is the house of which I have spoken, and beyond the enclosures of this man's farm there are no other. A few old trees remain, relics of the forest; a little stream passes in serpentine windings through the uncultivated valley, where many cattle were feeding. The cattle of this country are generally white or light-coloured; but those were mostly dark brown or black, which made the scene resemble many parts of Scotland. When we sat on the hill-side, though we were well contented with the quiet everyday sounds-the lowing of cattle, bleating of sheep, and the very gentle murmuring of the valley stream-yet we could not but think what a grand effect the sound of the bugle-horn would have among these mountains. It is still heard once a year at the chase, a day of festivity for all the inhabitants of the district, except the poor deer, the most ancient of them all. The ascent, even to the top of the mountain, is very easy. When we had accomplished it, we had some exceedingly fine mountain views, some of the mountains being resplendent with sunshine, others partly hidden by clouds. Ullswater was of a dazzling brightness, bordered by black hills, the plain beyond Penrith smooth and bright (or rather gleamy) as the sea or sea-sands. Looked into Boardale above San

wick-deep and bare, a stream winding down it. After having walked a considerable way on the tops of the hills, came in view of Glenridding, and the mountains above Grisdale. Luff then took us aside, before we had begun to descend, to a small ruin, which was formerly a chapel or place of worship, where the inhabitants of Martindale and Patterdale were accustomed to meet on Sundays. There are now no traces by which you could discover that the building had been different from a common sheepfold; the loose stones, and the few which yet remain piled up, are the same as those which lie about on the mountain; but the shape of the building being oblong is not that of a common sheepfold, and it stands east and west. Whether it was ever consecrated ground, or not, I know not; but the place may be kept holy, in the memory of some now living in Patterdale; for it was the means of preserving the life of a poor old man last summer, who, having gone up the mountain to gather peats, had been overtaken by a storm, and could not find his way down again. He happened to be near the remains of the old chapel, and in a corner of it he contrived, by laying turf and ling and stones from one wall to the other, to make a shelter from the wind, and there he lay all night. woman who had sent him on his errand began to grow uneasy towards night, and the neighbours went out to seek him. At that time the old man had housed himself in his nest, and he heard the voices of the men, but could not make them hear, the wind being so loud, and he was afraid to leave the spot lest he should not be able to find it again, so he remained there all night; and they returned to their homes, giving him up for lost; but the next morning the same persons discovered him huddled up in the sheltered nook. He was at first stupefied, and unable to move; but after he had eaten and drunk, and recollected himself a little, he walked down the mountain, and did not afterwards

The

seem to have suffered.* As we descend, the vale of Patterdale appears very simple and grand, with its two heads, Deep Dale, and Brotherswater or Hartsop. It is remarkable that two pairs of brothers should have been drowned in that lake. There is a tradition, at least, that it took its name from two who were drowned there many years ago, and it is a fact that two others did meet that melancholy fate about twenty years since.

Saturday, November 10th.-A beautiful morning. When we were at breakfast we heard suddenly the tidings of Lord Nelson's death and the victory of Trafalgar. Went to the inn to make further inquiries. Returned by William's rock and grove, and were so much pleased with the spot that William determined to buy it if possible, therefore we prepared to set off to Parkhouse, that William might apply to Thomas Wilkinson to negotiate for him with the owner. We went down that side of the lake opposite to Stybarrow Crag. I dismounted, and we sat some time under the same rock as before, above Blowick. Owing to the brightness of the sunshine, the church and other buildings were even more concealed from us than by the mists the other day. It had been a sharp frost in the night, and the grass and trees were yet wet. We observed the lemon-coloured leaves of the birches in the wood below sparkle, or rather flash like diamonds, as the wind turned them to the sun. The day continued unclouded to the end.

Monday, November 12th.—The morning being fine, we resolved to go to Lowther. ... Crossed the ford at Yanwath. Found Thomas Wilkinson at work in one of his fields. He cheerfully laid down the spade, and walked by our side with William. We left our horses at the mill below Brougham, and walked through the woods till we

Compare the account given of this incident in The Excursion, towards the close of Book ii.; also in the Fenwick note to The Excursion.