he is afloat, the beauties of Ullswater open upon him, the great Place Fell occupying the whole space to the right; and Stybarrow Crag, precipitous and wooded, shoots up on the left-hand bank. The road winds below it, under trees, passing good houses, and the paths to Helvellyn, and to the lead-works, and to Glencoin, all recesses full of beauty. Ullswater has two bends, and is shaped like a relaxed Z. At the first bend, the boat draws to shore, below Lyulph's Tower, an ivy-covered little castle, built for a shooting-box by the late Duke of Norfolk; but it stands on the site of a real old tower, named, it is said, after the Ulf, or L'Ulf, the first baron of Greystoke, who gave its name to the lake. Some, however, insist that the real name is Wolf's Tower. The park which surrounds it, and stretches down to the lake, is studded with ancient trees; and the sides of its watercourses, and the depths of its ravines, are luxuriantly wooded. Vast hills, with climbing tracks, rise behind, on which the herds of deer are occasionally seen, like brown shadows from the clouds. They are safe there from being startled (as they are in the glades of the park) by strangers who come to find out Ara Force by following the sound of the fall. Our tourist must take a guide to this waterfall from the tower. He will be led over the open grass to the ravine, and then along its wooded sides on a pathway above the brawling stream, till he comes to a bridge, which will bring him in full view of the fall. As he sits in the cool damp nook at the bottom of the chasm, where the echo of dashing and gurgling water never dies, and : the ferns, long grasses and ash sprays wave and quiver everlastingly in the pulsing air; and as, looking up, he sees the slender line of bridge spanning the upper fall, he ought to know of the mournful legend which belongs to this place, and which Wordsworth has preserved :In the olden times, a knight who loved a lady, and courted her in her father's tower here, at Greystoke, went forth to win glory. He won great glory and at first his lady rejoiced fully in it: but he was so long in returning, and she heard so much of his deeds in behalf of distressed ladies, that doubts at length stole upon her heart as to whether he still loved her. These doubts disturbed her mind in sleep: and she began to walk in her dreams, directing her steps towards the waterfall where she and her lover used to meet. Under a holly tree beside the fall they had plighted their vows, and this was the limit of her dreaming walks. The knight at length returned to claim her. Arriving in the night, he went to the ravine to rest under the holly until the morning should permit him to knock at the gate of the tower: but he saw a gliding white figure among the trees and this figure reached the holly before him, and plucked twigs from the tree, and threw them into the stream. Was it the ghost of his lady love? or was it herself? She stood in a dangerous place: he put out his hand to uphold her: the touch awakened her. In her terror and confusion she fell from his grasp into the torrent, and was carried down the ravine. He followed and rescued her; but she died upon the bank; not, however, without having fully understood that her lover was true, and had come to claim her. The knight devoted the rest of his days to mourn her: he built himself a cell upon the spot, and became a hermit for her sake. The visitor should ascend the steps and pathway from the bottom of the fall, and stand on the bridge that spans the leap. It is a grand thing to look down. He returns the way he came, now by boat, and, after dinner up Kirkstone Pass. He will hear and see enough to make him wish to come again, and stay awhile on Ullswater. He would like to walk along Place Fell, above the margin of the lake, where no carriage road is or can be made; and, once there, he would certainly climb the mountain. He would like to enter the bridle road, from the other shore, which leads to Grisedale. tarn, and comes out above Grasmere. He would like to visit Angle Tarn, on the southern end of Place Fell; and, yet more, Hays Water, the large lonely tarn above Hartsop; where the angler delights to seclude himself, because the trout delights in it too. It is a high treat to follow up the beck from the road, winding among the farms, and then entering the solitude of the pass, till the source of the stream is found in this tarn, a mile and a half from the main road. The little lake is overhung by High Street, so that the Roman eagles, as well as the native birds of the rocks, may have cast their shadows upon its surface. Its rushy and rocky margin is as wild a place as the most adventurous angler can ever have found himself in. Our traveller must, however, come again to see it; for there is no time to diverge to it to-day. At the house, at the top of the pass, (which he has |