shot of the ignorant and rash fowler, who takes aim at everything he sees. The miners about Coniston, and other workmen in the region, go out on holidays, to bring down everything they see on the wing; and the rarest birds have no more chance with them than so many crows. The eagle is gone; the buzzards are disappearing; and the raven has become very rare.

The traveller should see the copper-works at Coniston, (if he can obtain leave,) both for their own sake, and for the opportunity it gives him of observing the people engaged there, and because they lie in his way to the tarns on Coniston Old Man, and to the summit of the mountain itself. The Tarns are very interesting; Low Water, Goat's Water, Blind Tarn, and, some considerable way along the ridge, Lever's Water under Wetherlam. Some think the views from the top of the Old Man finer than from any mountain summit in the country, except Scawfell—not even excepting Helvellyn: and this may very well be, from the country being here open to the southern peninsulas and the sea, instead of bristling with mountain peaks all round. One of the productions of this neighbourhood is the celebrated potted char, known all over the country. There is char in Windermere, and several of the other lakes; but Coniston Lake produces by far the finest fish. As the traveller is now about to enter upon a comparatively low country, well peopled, and with good roads, he will probably be disposed to give up his pedestrian mode of travelling, and proceed either on horseback or in a car. He can do this from Coniston, if he so pleases. He had better go down the lake on its eastern side, for various reasons; and chiefly, that he may obtain the best views of the exquisite head of the lake. Passing round Waterhead, he will presently ascend to a considerable height at the north-eastern end of the fine sheet of Coniston Water; and there he will assuredly pause, and hope that he may never forget what he now sees. He has probably never beheld a scene which conveyed a stronger impression of joyful charm; of fertility, prosperity, comfort, nestling in the bosom of the rarest beauty. It is too true that there is wrong and misery here, as elsewhere: but this does not lie open to the notice in a bird's-eye view. It is true that here, as elsewhere, there are responsible persons who are negligent; some of the working class who are ignorant and profligate; dwellings which are unwholesome; and lives which are embittered by sickness and mourning. But these things are not visible from the point whence the traveller feasts his eyes with the scattered dwellings under their sheltering wood,the cheerful town, the rich slopes, and the dark gorge and summits of Yewdale behind; while the broad water lies as still as heaven, between shore and shore. In these waters it was that Elizabeth Smith used to dip her oar, on those summer days when she left her studies to show the beauty of Coniston to her mother's guests: and it was near the place where the traveller now stands that she died. Tent Lodge is erected on spot where the tent was pitched in which she spent some of her feeblest and latest days.

It is sixteen miles from Coniston Water Head to the cheerful little town of Ulverston; from whence it is only seven miles to Furness Abbey.

This Abbey was first peopled from Normandy; a sufficient number of Benedictine monks coming over from the monastery of Savigny, to establish this house in honour of St. Marye of Furnesse. In a few years their profession changed,-they followed St. Bernard, and wore the white cassock, caul, and scapulary, instead of the dress of the gray monks. It is strange now to see the railway traversing those woods where these grayrobed foreigners used to pass hither and thither, on their saint's errands to the depressed and angry Saxons dwelling round about. The situation of the Abbey, as is usual with religious houses, is fine. It stands in the depth of a glen, with a stream flowing by; the sides of the glen being clothed with wood. A beacon once belonged to it; a watch-tower on an eminence accessible from the Abbey, whose signal-fire was visible all over Low Furness, when assistance was required, or foes were expected. The building is of the pale red stone of the district. It must formerly have almost filled the glen: and the ruins give an impression, to this day, of the establishment having been worthy of the zeal of its founder, King Stephen, and the extent of its endowments, which were princely. The boundary-wall of the precincts enclosed a space of sixty-five acres, over which are scattered remains which have, within our own time, been interpreted to be those of the mill, the granary, the fish-ponds, the ovens and kilns, and other offices. As for the architecture, the heavy shaft is here, as at Calder Abbey, found alternating with the clustered pillar, and the round Saxon with the pointed Gothic arch. The masonry is so good that the remains are even now firm and massive; and the winding-staircases within the walls are still in good condition, in many places. The nobleness of the edifice consisted in its extent and proportions; for the stone would not bear the execution of any very elaborate ornament. The crowned heads of Stephen and his queen, Maude, are seen outside the window of the Abbey, and are among the most interesting of the remains. It is all very triste and silent now. The Chapter-house, where so many grave councils were held, is open to the babbling winds. Where the abbot and his train swept past in religious procession, over inscribed pavements echoing to the tread, the stranger now wades among tall ferns and knotted grasses, stumbling over stones fallen from their place of honour. No swelling anthems are heard there now, or penitential psalms; but only the voice of birds, winds, and waters. But this blank is what the stranger comes for. He has seen something of the territory over which the Abbots of Furness held a rule like that of royalty: and he now comes to take one more warning of how Time shatters thrones, dominations, and powers, and causes the glories of this world to pass away.

The stranger will vary his return by taking the road above Bardsea to Ulverston; and if he can, he should enjoy the glorious view from Birkrigg. From all the rising grounds, wide views over the Lancaster sands

and the sea are obtained; and the traveller may find something cheering to the spirits in the open stretch of landscape, after his wanderings among the narrow dales. Newby Bridge, at the foot of Windermere, is eight miles from Ulverston. The drive is pleasant, and the traveller may as well take that road to Hawkshead, instead of returning up the side of Coniston Water. There is not much to see at Hawkshead itself; but the views which it commands of the little lake of Esthwaite are pretty. Esthwaite Water is two miles long by half a mile wide. Its scenery is rather tame; but the valley has a cheerful and flourishing aspect, with its green slopes and farmsteads dotted about, here and there. From Hawkshead, the traveller will proceed to the ferry on Windermere, in order to close with this lake, and the valleys at its head, his exploration of the lake district. What he is to meet with in the remainder of his circuit, he has already been told in the paper on Windermere, which has obtained a prior place in this work.

What weather he has had-to put up with or enjoy —we have not declared or conjectured. Much depends on the season; but, as everybody knows, much rain is sure to fall where there are mountain tops to attract the clouds. The lake district does receive a high average of rain. Hence much of its rich and verdant beauty is derived; but hence also arises much discontent and complaint on the part of fastidious tourists. The residents are not heard to complain. They are not pressed for time in seeing the beauties of the region : and they know of no day in the year when they do not go out, and see such beauty as sends them home happy. Either they do not dislike getting wet, (which is one of the most exhilarating things in the world to those who deserve to enjoy it,) or they guard themselves against the weather by waterproof dress: and they see such beauty in the streams, and hear such chorusses of

waterfalls, as those know nothing about who will go out only in sunshine. Again, if one part of the day is wet, another is dry if it is rainy in one valley, the sun shines in the next; and the resident can use these opportunities at his pleasure. It must be understood that he is not liable to suffer in health. The climate is moist; but it is not damp. The soil is rock or gravel, and the air is fresh and free; and the average of health is high accordingly, where the laws of nature are not violated in the placing and construction of habitations.

For the guidance of the visitor, we may mention that, generally speaking, the worst months of the year in the Lake District are November and December, for storms; March, for spring gales; and July for summer rain. The driest season is usually for a month or more onward from the middle of May. September and October are often very fine months. Those who come but once, and take only a cursory view of the region, cannot be too careful in choosing the most favourable season for their trip. But to those who are thoroughly familiar with the characteristics of this paradise, there is no aspect or accident of earth and sky which has not its charm.

The mountains are neither so high as to oblige you to lift up your head continually, in order to bring their snow-clad summits within the range of vision, nor yet to occupy you for more than a few hours in scaling their loftiest crags; there is little or no danger to be feared in rambling, unguided, over any part of them. If you ever feel nervous or bewildered, you have only to follow down the first stream you find, and a few miles, eight or ten at the most, will bring you to some habitation. The worst end to be apprehended is, probably, an ignominous termination of a day's march in the identical spot whence you started, brimful of hope and confidence, that very morning. Nevertheless, Scawfell Pikes, or even those of Langdale, offer you pure air, sufficiently dense veils of cloud, hard rocks, and giddy heights; and what more can a mountain do? The glens below afford a gorgeousness of colouring, during most times of the year, which no Alpine gorge can pretend to; any quantity of stone-walls, and clearfiltered streams none of your turbid, discoloured 'glacier" torrents, but "becks" of the most crystal purity; the most sublime effects of sunshine or shower, (it is always one or the other with them); a quiet aspect of primitive pastoral seclusion; and neat, clean, contented poverty, more pleasing to contemplate than the scenery itself. tication up here, every now and then, which are perfectly startling. We have been thanked for a sixpence in a case where we thought that half-a-crown would have been demanded. One intelligent landlady, when interrogated on the subject of railways, had only and pointed loosely in the direction of Sty-head. "heard talk of one as existing somewhere over there,"

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One meets with instances of unsophis

The difference between the outer and the interior

parts of the Lake District is very remarkable. It seems as though the central mountain peaks had been pushed up through the surrounding rim of country,

and that the former had been torn and riven in the process; while the latter had only been heaved into irregular undulations. The circumstance has been pointed out and explained by Professor Sedgwick, in his "Letters on the Geology of the Lake District." He says:

"On the outskirts, the mountains have a very dull outline, and a continual tendency to a tabular form; but those in the interior have a much more varied figure, and sometimes present outlines which are peaked, jagged, or serrated. This difference arises partly from the nature of the component rocks, and partly from their position; for the more central mountains are chiefly made up of slaty beds, with different degrees of induration, which are highly inclined and sometimes nearly vertical; while the outer hills are, with limited exceptions, made up of beds which are slightly inclined and sometimes nearly hori zontal."

For a survey of this wilder tract, a journey to Largdale is the best possible when at Windermere. From the gentle scenery about the lake, you pass gradually

into a country of the sternest and most desolate solitude. On the way Loughrigg Tarn, as we have seen, may be visited-a most graceful scene, which, according to Wordsworth, "resembles, though much smaller in compass, the Lake Nemi, or Speculum Dianæ, as it is often called, not only in its clear waters and circular form, and the beauty immediately surrounding it, but also as being overlooked by the eminence of Langdale Pikes, as Lake Nemi is by that of Monte Calvo."

ness.

It is a desirable thing for every country that it should have within its borders a mountainous district. Though some people regard such a district as little better than waste land, unless it happens to be rich in minerals, it has a value, however wild it may be, as real and as great as can be boasted of by the richest plain; and a value the greater, perhaps, in proportion to the wildThe wilder the mountain-region of any country, the more certain it is to be the conservator of the antiquities of that country. When invaders come, the inhabitants retreat to the fastnesses where they cannot be pursued; and in places cut off from communication do ancient ideas and customs linger the longest. Every mountain-chain or cluster is a piece of the old world preserved in the midst of the new; and the value of this peculiarity far transcends that of any profitable quality which belongs to territory of another kind.

There is, also, a value belonging to a mountainous district which in our particular time can hardly be over-rated. It is the only kind of territory in which utility must necessarily be subordinated to beauty. However open-hearted and open-eyed we may be to the beauty of utility itself, and of all that is connected with it, we cannot but enjoy the privilege of access to a region where grandeur and grace reign supreme from age to age, and the subsistence and comfort of men occur only as an accident or an after-thought. It is well that we should be able and disposed to honour and admire the great inventions and arrangements of men, the sublime railway, the wonderful factory, the cheerful stretch of corn-fields, the hopeful school-organization, and all glorious associations of men for mutual benefit: but it is well also that we should have access to a region where the winds and the waters, the mists and the stars, old forests and unapproachable precipices occupy the space, and man is seen only here and there, sheltering himself in some recess, or moving, a mere speck, on the mountain-side, or drawing his subsistence from the trout-stream, whose flow is scarcely heard among the echoes of the mighty hills. Elsewhere we have beauty in the midst of use. In a mountain-district we have a complete world of beauty which cannot be touched by the hand of Use. Man may come and live, if he likes and if he can; but it must be in some humble corner, by permission, as it were, and not through conflict with the genius of the place. Nature and beauty here rule and occupy: man and his desires are subordinate, and scarcely discernible.

Yet it does not follow that the hilly retreats of any country are bare of human interest. As I have said,

they are conservative of races, and manners, and traditions; and they also offer a quiet field to science. The other day I was climbing among the ridges of the highest mountain cluster of the Lake District, when I came upon a rain-gauge, set up in a desolate and misty spot,-sometimes below and often above the clouds. There are four more set up, and carefully secured against the force of the gales, on other heights, and an aged shepherd has them in charge: he visits them once a month, to record what they show. As I watched the tall old man with his staff passing out of sight on the vast mountain-slope, I thought that knowledge and wisdom are as appropriate and as beautiful here as anyThis mountain solitude is no where else on the earth,

scene for the busy handiwork of men, in their toil for bread or convenience; but neither is it a tomb "where no knowledge or device is found." Contemplative science may sit upon these heights, for ever vigilant and for ever gratified; for here without pause come all the necessary aids and means in long array,―the stars and the sunshine, the gales and the mists, the hail and the lightnings,-all conceivable displays of light, and Nature's whole orchestra of sounds. Here is the eye of science trained and charmed by all that is luminous, from the glittering dewdrop, past the spectral mist, and the rainbow under foot, to the furthest gleam of the western sea and the ear is roused and instructed by all mournful melodies, from the hum of the gnat in the summer noon, to the iron note of the raven, and the dash of the torrent, or the growl of the thunder, echoing through cavern and ravine. Here then, while man is

subordinated, he is not excluded. He cannot obtrude his noisy devices and his bustling handiworks upon this royal domain of nature: but if he is humble and devoutly studious, Nature will invite his industry to prosper in her valleys, and his science to keep watch upon her heights.

The conservative office belonging to all mountaindistricts has never been more distinctly performed than in the case of these west moorlands, from which Westmoreland takes its name. A remnant of every race hard pressed by foes in the rest of England has found a refuge among the fastnesses of the north-west. The first people of whom we have any clear impression as living here are the Druids, as the upper class, probably, of the Britons who inhabited the valleys. There are still oaks worthy to be the haunt of these old priests; but there were many more in the days of the Druids.

There is reason to believe that the mountains were once wooded up to a great height, with few breaks in the forest; and it is still said by old people living at the foot of Helvellyn, that a squirrel might have gone from their chapel of Wythburn to Keswick, about ten miles, on the tree tops, without touching the ground. The remaining coppice of hollies, firs, birch, ash, and oak, show something of the character of the woods of which they are the degenerate remnants. And when we look upon Rydal Forest, and the oak woods of some of the northern seats, we see how much at home the Druid race or caste might formerly be in the region.

The Abbot of Furness was a sort of king in his place. His monastery was richly endowed by King Stephen, and maintained in wealth by the gifts of neighbouring proprietors, who were glad to avail themselves, not only of its religious privileges, but of its military powers for the defence of their estates against Border foes and the outlaws of the mountains.

In the low grounds between the Scawfell Peaks and the sea, Calder Abbey was next placed. It dates from A.D. 1134; seven years after the establishment of Furness Abbey, of which it was a dependent. The small religious house of St. Bees was restored by a Norman about the same time. It was very ancient, and had been destroyed by the Danes; but it now became a Norman monkish settlement. Round to the north-east, and lying under the Picts' Wall, we find the Augustine Priory of Lanercost, founded in 1169 by the Norman lord of Gilsland. Several castles were scattered around the skirts of the mountain cluster: and as the serfs on the estates rose to the condition of tenants, facilities were continually offering for the new owners to penetrate more and more into the retired parts of the district.

The process appears to have been this, in the case of Furness Abbey :-The lord's land was divided into tenements. Each tenement was to furnish, besides proper rent, an armed man, to be always ready for battle on the Borders or elsewhere. The tenement was divided into four portions,woodland, pasture, and arable land being taken as they came; and each portion was given to an emancipated serf. The four who were thus placed on each complete tenement took care of the whole of it;-one of their number always holding himself in readiness to go armed to the wars. Thus spread over the land, and secure of being permitted to attend to their business in all ordinary times, the tenants would presently feel themselves, and be regarded by the mountaineer, husbandmen on their own ground rather than retainers of the hostile lord; and their approach towards the fastnesses would be watched with less and less suspicion. As for the shepherds, they were more free still in their rovings with their flocks: and when, by permission of the abbots, they inclosed crofts about their hillside huts, for the sake of browsing their charge on the sprouts of the ash and the holly, and protecting

themselves in a position for many friendly dealings with the dwellers in the hills. The inclosures for the protection of the flocks certainly spread up the mountain sides to a height where they would hardly be seen now if ancient custom had not drawn the lines which are still preserved: and it appears from historical testimony that these fences existed before the fertile valleys were portioned out among many holders. Higher and higher ran these stone inclosures,-threading the woods, and joining on upon the rocks. Now, the woods are for the most part gone; and the walls offend and perplex the stranger's eye and mind by their ugliness and apparent uselessness: but, their origin once known, we would not willingly part with them,-reminding us as they do of the times when the tenants of the abbots or military noble formed a link between the new race of inhabitants and the Saxon remnant of the old.

The holders of these crofts were the original of the Dalesmen of the present day. Their name arises, we are told, not from the dales of the region,-these tenants being chiefly dwellers on the heights,-but from the word deyler, which means to distribute. In course of time, when the Border wars were ended, and armed retainers were no longer needed, the distribution of the inhabitants underwent a change, and several portions of land were held by one tenant. To this day, however, separate fines are often paid for each lot; this recognition of a feudal superior, on the part of purchasers who have otherwise a freehold tenure of their lands, being a curious relic of ancient manners. The purchaser of two or three acres, subject to no other liability, will enjoy paying his nine pence a year to the lord, in memory of the time when tenancy was a sort of servitude, of which there are now no remains but in this observance.

For many centuries, an extraordinary supply of armed men was required; for the Border wars, which raged almost without intermission from the reign of the Conqueror to that of Queen Anne, were conducted with great ravage and cruelty. Besides the frequent slaughter, many hundreds of prisoners were carried away, on the one side or the other, after almost every battle. The aim of the Scots usually was to attack and pillage Carlisle, Penrith and Cockermouth, and the neighbouring country: but though the devastation and pillage were chiefly experienced there, the loss of men was felt throughout the whole mountain district. The enemy sometimes fell on the Border towns in fair-time, for the sake of the booty: and sometimes they came down when least expected. We read of them as laying waste the district of Furness; and again as ravaging the whole country on their way into Yorkshire. Wherever they might appear or be expected, there must the armed vassal repair on summons; and for retaliatory incursions he must also be prepared. The curse of the war thus spread into the most secluded valleys, where there

*The wolf is spoken of as a public enemy in edicts or Edward I. and John. Sir Ewen Cameron laid low the last Scotch wolf in 1680. The last presentment for killing wolves in Ireland was made, in the county of Cork, in 1710.