out as it does between quiet bays on either hand. The landing takes place on the opposite promontory: the horse is put to, and the traveller ascends, through Bowness, to his inn. He is ready for his meal (be it tea or supper) of lake trout or char. The best char are in Coniston Water: but they are good every where; especially to hungry travellers, sitting at table within sight of the waters whence they have just been fished. The potted char of Coniston is sent, as every epicure knows, to all parts of the world where men know what is good. As for the trout, there can be none finer than that of Windermere.

SECOND TOUR.

BY TROUTBECK TO KIRKSTONE PASS AND PATTERDALE, AND HOME BY AMBLESIDE.

see

The country people will tell the traveller, as he turns up to Troutbeck at Cook's House, that he is going to "the handsomest view in these parts, especially at the back end of the year." And wonderfully fine the views are, as the road ascends, commanding the entire lake, and the whole range of mountains from Coniston Old Man to Fairfield. The singular valley of Troutbeck was once a wooded basin, where the terrified Britons took refuge from the Romans, while the latter were making their great road from Kendal to Penrith. That road actually ran along the very ridge of the Troutbeck hills, as any one may see who will climb the mountain called, for this reason, High Street. What a sight it must have been the pioneers felling the trees, and paving the way, and the soldiers following, with their armour and weapons gleaming in the sun, while the trembling natives cowered in the forest below, - listening now to the blows of the workmen, and now to the warlike music of the troops, marching up from Kendal! After Romans and Saxons were gone, the valley was a great park, and the inhabitants were virtually serfs, in danger of the gallows, (which had a hill to itself, named after it to this day) at the will

and pleasure of the one great man.

In course of time,

- that is, a good many centuries ago, -the valley was disparked, and divided among the inhabitants, — only one very large estate being left, the new park, containing 2,000 acres. This was the estate given by Charles I, to Huddlestone Phillipson, for his services in the civil wars. The valley now contains a string of hamlets, Town End, Town Head, High Green, Crag, and High Fold; and its farmsteads and outbuildings show some of the most curious specimens of ancient edifices that are to be seen in the district. Troutbeck is the most primitive of the frequented valleys of the district. To find any other so antique and characteristic, it is necessary to leave the high road, and explore the secluded dales of which the summer tourist sees and hears nothing. The dale looks from the uplands as if it had been scooped out between the ridges with a gigantic scoop. Its levels are parcelled out into small fields, of all manner of shapes; and the stream, the beck abounding in trout, winds along the bottom, from the foot of High Street, to fall into the lake just by Calgarth.

The road now followed by the tourist descends into the vale sharply, by the abode of John Wilson, Esq., at The How, and crosses the bridge, in full view of the chapel, which was consecrated in 1562, and thoroughly repaired in 1828. It is one of the small churches that, with their square tower and bell, look and sound so well in the dales. This one seats 160 worshippers. Immediately beyond the bridge, the road mounts again very steeply, till it joins that which runs along the hill

THE HIGHEST INHABITED HOUSE.

29

sides, on the western side of the valley. This road is to be followed up the valley; and the tourist must lose none of its beauties. Behind him, there are views of the receding lake, now diminished to the likeness of a cabinet picture: below is the deep vale with its green levels: opposite the grassy slopes ascend to the ridges of High Street and Hill Bell; and before him, Troutbeck Tongue protrudes, splitting the valley into two, and being itself most lovely with its farmstead, and dropped thorns, and coppice and grey rocks: while, behind and above it, the vale head rises into grandeur, with its torrents leaping down, and its pathway winding up, indicating the pass into Mardale. The stranger is not going that way, however. He turns over a gentler pass to the left, which leads him, on the slope of Wansfell, away from Troutbeck. As he bids farewell to the Tongue, he sees the summit of Kirkstone before him. He is passing over the somewhat boggy upland where the Stock takes its rise, to flow down to and through Ambleside, after having taken the leap called Stockghyll Force. The tourist may see that in the evening, if there is time: he is going the other way now.

His road meets the one from Ambleside at a small public-house, which the Ordnance Surveyors have declared the Highest Inhabited House in England: and thus it is labelled by a board over the porch. In clear weather, the sea is seen hence, and the thread of smoke from its steamers. The head of Windermere lies like a pond below: the little Blelham tarn, near Wray Castle, glitters behind; and range beyond range of hills recedes to the horizon. Near at hand, all is

very wild. The Ambleside road winds up steeply between grey rocks and moorland pasture, and dashing streams; and the Kirkstone mountain has probably mists driving about its head. There is something wilder to come, however, -the noted Kirkstone Pass,

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the great pass of the district. The descent begins about a quarter of a mile beyond the house. Down plunges the road, with rock and torrent on either hand, and the bold sweeps of Coldfield and Scandale Screes shutting in the pass; and the little lake of Brothers' Water lying below, afar off among the green levels; and, closing in the whole in front, the mass of Place Fell, the other side of which goes sheer down into Ullswater. The stranger must not omit to observe near the head of the pass, the fallen rock, ridged like a roof, whose form (like that of a miniature church) has given its name to its precincts. All the way as he descends to Brothers' Water, the openings on the Scandale side (the left) charm his eye, with their fissures, precipices, green slopes and levels, and knolls in the midst, crowned with firs. He passes through Hartsop, and then winds on, for three or four miles, among the rich levels of Patterdale, which is guarded by mountains jutting forwards, like promontories. The Patterdale Inn, kept by Mr. Gelderd, is another of the first-rate hotels of the district. The stranger, who must have left Windermere early in the morning, hastens to order a car or a boat, to take him to Gowbarrow Park, and desires that dinner may await him in about three hours' time.

If the weather is calm and fine, he has a boat, to which he must walk across the meadows. As soon as