But the majesty of the mountains below, and close to us, is not to be conceived. We now beheld the whole mass of Great Gavel from its base, the Den of Wastdale at our feet-a gulf immeasurable: Grasmire and the other mountains of Crummock-Ennerdale and its mountains; and the sea beyond! We sat down to our repast, and gladly would we have tempered our beverage (for there was no spring or well near us) with such a supply of delicious water as we might have procured, had we been on the rival summit of Great Gavel; for on its highest point is a small triangular receptacle in the native rock, which, the shepherds say, is never dry. There, we might have slaked our thirst plenteously with a pure and celestial liquid, for the cup or basin, it appears, has no other feeder than the dews of heaven, the showers, the vapours, the hoar-frost, and the spotless snow.

While we were gazing around, "Look,” I exclaimed, “at yon ship upon the glittering sea!"- "Is it a ship?" replied our shepherd-guide. "It can be nothing else," interposed my companion: "I cannot be mistaken, I am so accustomed to the appearance of ships at sea." The guide dropped the argument; but, before a minute was gone, he quietly said, "Now look at your ship; it is changed into a horse." So indeed it was-a horse with a gallant neck and head. We laughed heartily; and, I hope, when again inclined to be positive, I may remember the ship and the horse upon the glittering sea; and the calm confidence, yet submissiveness, of our wise Man of the Mountains, who certainly had more knowledge of clouds than we, whatever might be our knowledge of ships.

I know not how long we might have remained on the summit of the Pike, without a thought of moving, had not our guide warned us that we must not linger; for a storm was coming. We looked in vain to espy the signs of it. Mountains, vales, and sea, were touched with the clear light of the sun. "It is there," said he, pointing to the sea beyond Whitehaven-and there we perceived a light vapour unnoticeable but by a shepherd accustomed to watch all mountain bodings. We gazed around again, and yet again, unwilling to lose the remembrance of what lay before us in that lofty solitude; and then prepared to depart. Meanwhile the air changed to cold, and we saw that tiny vapour swelled into mighty masses of cloud, which came boiling over the mountains. Great Gavel, Helvellyn, and Skiddaw, were wrapped in storm; yet Langdale, and the mountains in that quarter, remained all bright in sunshine. Soon the storm reached us; we sheltered under a crag; and almost as rapidly as it had come it passed away, and left us free to observe the struggles of gloom and sunshine in other quarters. Langdale now had its share, and the Pikes of Langdale were decorated by two splendid rainbows. Skiddaw also had his own rainbows. Before we again reached Ash-Course every cloud had vanished from every summit.

I ought to have mentioned, that round the top of Scafell-Pike, not a blade of grass is to be seen. Cushions or tufts of moss, parched and brown, appear between the huge blocks and stones that lie in heaps on all sides to a great distance, like skeletons or bones of the earth not needed at the creation, and there left to be covered with never-dying

lichens, which the clouds and dews nourish, and adorn with colours of vivid and exquisite beauty. Flowers, the most brilliant feathers, and even gems, scarcely surpass in colouring some of those masses of stone, which no human eye beholds, except the shepherd or traveller be led thither by curiosity; and how seldom must this happen! For the other eminence is the one visited by the adventurous stranger; and the shepherd has no inducement to ascend the PIKE in quest of his sheep; no food being there to tempt them.

We certainly were singularly favoured in the weather; for when we were seated on the summit, our conductor, turning his eyes thoughtfully round, said, "I do not know that in my whole life I was ever, at any season of the year, so high upon the mountains on so calm a day." (It was the 7th of October.) Afterwards we had a spectacle of the grandeur of earth and heaven commingled; yet without terror. We knew that the storm would pass away;-for so our prophetic guide had assured us.

Before we reached Seathwaite in Borrowdale, a few stars had appeared, and we pursued our way down the Vale, to Rossthwaite, by moonlight.

Out of pure love for the memory of the dead, let us consult poor dear Green. Here is the passage:

After breakfast we were accompanied by Mr Tyson down the meadows, to the river which descends from Sty-Head, and afterwards runs at the foot of Lingmell. Having crossed this river, we commenced our ascent to the High Man; first steeply over rugged ground, and perhaps a mile on the side of a wall, ending on the ridge of a hill. Here we turned on the left at right angles, and saw in front Gable, hung in azure, and so powerfully lighted up as to exhibit its fine contour, extraordinary craggy projections, and deep recesses, to very great advantage. On the right, Mickle Door, having on each side the stupendous rocks depending from Scafell and the Pikes, is the most magnificent assemblage of its kind in England. These rocks, not in detached fragments like those upon the surface of the pillar, but in a grandeur of breadth, are seen in places overhanging. On a turn to the right the passage becomes steeper, and those ascending to the Pikes, if not fatigued, may do well to make a short deviation on the left, to the top of Lingmell Crag, and there (unless they reserve it for the Pikes) have a fine prospect of the circumscribing highlands. After various traverses, the course in a grand sweep to the right, at the top of stupendous rocks, turns again to the left, and alternately over stony impediments, and a rich velvet-like moss, the food of the reindeer, to the summit of the Pikes, or High Man. The High Pike, or Man, is 3160 feet above the level of the sea. The Lower Pike is about 250 yards south-east of the High Man, or Pike, and only 3100 feet above the salt-water level.

This is the most sublime and commanding elevation in England, and happy were we in our day, for the enjoyment of the objects there displayed. The whole encircling horizon being free from cloud, and,

excepting the ridge extending from Wanthwaite Crags, towards Helvellyn, from amalgamating vapours; but to the west a portion of the vast extent of country was brilliantly illuminated. The sea, and the rivers meandering to it from the mountains, glittered resplendently in the noontide sun.

Westward lies Scafell, which Janus like, being double-faced, here presents his roughly marked front; Eskdale and Wastdale enjoy his smooth and smiling face; Scafell obscures part of the Skrees and Wastwater. The mountains north of that lake, seen from this elevated stand, having lost their lowland shapes, are scarcely recognised, except by their relative situations. These most particularly are Buck-Barrow, Middle Fell, the Chair, Seat-Allan, Knot-Ends, Gosforth Crag, and Yew-Barrow. The more aspiring Hay-Cock, Pillar, and Gable, retain more of the forms presented by them from the lower grounds. Though good here, Gable's lines are not equal to those exhibited on Wastwater; nor as first observed from Lingmell. Grasmire, and on its left the Buttermere mountains, and on its right all the summits reaching to Causey-Pike, with the intermediate bays, Brown, Robinson, Hindsgarth, Dalehead, Maiden-Moor, and Skiddaw finishing the scene, are a magnificent assemblage. Sty-Head Tarn appears a spot, and blue, black, or white, as depending on the colour of the reflected heavens; sprinkling on its side, and beyond it the deep dell of Seathwaite, Castle Crag, Grange Crag, and Gate Crag, on their left, shutting out all Derwentwater to the west of Friar Crag, show Lonsdale Fell, in distance. Beyond Wallow Crag and Falcon Crag, Saddleback and Wanthwaite Crags, and through the intervening portal, the upstretching line of blue skirting the east of Cumberland. From Wanthwaite Crags, all the pointed tops to the pinnacle of Helvellyn, having between them and the spectators, stand the high Seat above Wythburn, and Glaramara with other neighbouring Borrowdale high-lands. Through the depending lines of Glaramara and Bowfell, appear the Langdale-Pikes, and beyond them a portion of the middle of Windermere, and in remote distance, the vast miscellaneous assemblage of seas, flats, and mountains, extending from Helvellyn, and including from that superb elevation to Windermere, St Sunday Crag, Seat-Sandal, Fairfield, Scandale Fell, and Wansfell, with other Westmoreland and Yorkshire ranges; Whernside and the crown-topped Ingleborough are amongst the latter. On the right of Bowfell in a number of sharp points, are displayed the Fells of Coniston, Little Langdale, and Seathwaite; the Old Man starting above the rest. Birks, in Eskdale, though inferior in height to these its eastern neighbours, as rising from lower land, has an imposing appearance. More remote is Devock-Water, and at an extensive distance, Blackcoomb in the south of Cumberland, which, figuring between the river Duddon and the Irish Sea, has a striking effect amongst the humbler swells by which it is surrounded. South-east of the south of Cumberland, may be seen on a clear day Low Furness, and the Isle of Walna, and, perhaps, on one day in twenty, the Welsh mountains. Terminating the charming vale of Esk, appear the rivers Esk, Mite,

and Irt; all meeting and forming a bay at Ravenglass, at the mouth of which the beach is seen verging southward, and on the north, till arrested by the intervention of Scafell, on the right of which it reappears; but beyond Nether Wastdale and Gosforth, it is again obscured by the elevations northward.

This aspiring station commands a more sublime and perhaps not less elegantly varied range of mountains, dales, and sea-views, than either Skiddaw or Helvellyn. If Skiddaw in its panoramic exhibition excels the higher Pike, it is only in its views of towns and buildings, and of Derwentwater, and the rich and lovely vale spreading thence to Bassenthwaite. But these appendages to Skiddaw are less delightful from its top than on its progress upwards.

Of Poet and Painter alike, we may say, "Sampson hath quitted himself like Sampson." They both beat North. With joy-with pride, we confess it; for we love the Living and we loved the Dead-the Great-and the Good. 'Tis glorious to verify these glorious descriptions by the glory. Here are the copies-there is the original. How vast the hollow of the sky! And how stiller may Life be than Death! In Fleets, and in Squadrons, and in single Ships, the clouds have all let drop their anchors, and in the sunshine are now drying their sails. Celestial Ocean! shall our spirit, when our body dies, voyage thee, on to the Eternal Shores! Yet what art thou but a fair "Congregation of Vapours !" What hath the imagery of Time to do with Eternity! "Tis but the mockery of Imagination after all-at the best symbolical-of Thoughts that have their own independent being in the soul which is their birthplace. The Faith that seems mighty to save, in one gazing, like us now, far and wide, and high and deep, on the splendours of this magnificent creation, till from the transient it soars into the transcendental, alas! how it "languishes, grows dim, and dies," when "they that look out of the windows are darkened," and on his painful bed, perhaps by love forsaken, and tended but by pity, the same poor mortal lies! knowing then that Faith is of diviner origin than Fancy-that the Conscience which is in a man is awful, and cares nothing, at that hour, for the Beauty of Clouds.

And these meditations—if indeed they deserve the name— bring us upon the great questions of Feeling, Taste, Genius, Virtue, Religion. Are they cognate only as all spiritual states are so, or are they sib (you ought to know the meaning of that sweet strong word), kith and kin, educated in the same school,

Ј

and if not members, constant visitors of the same happy house hold? What is Feeling? The susceptibility of pleasure an pain, in all affections of which the natural language, in thei simplicity, is smiles or tears; and above all, grief and pity for others, and every mode, movement, of love. To that last -love-belongs the sense of beauty-rising out of it-sinking into it-dying when it dies-for then it is a mere perception, and no more-as a man, by causes that have chilled that glow within, may be made insensible to the sun, seeing but a disc that he knows gives the day, and is the centre of the system. What is Taste? Fine, delicate, and true perception of all relations of thoughts, in which feeling is either predominant or essential to their existence. It is commensurate with Fancy and Imagination, and with Judgment when employed in those provinces of its empire where the sensibilities dwell. 'Tis a poor, low, sensual name, of a rich, high, spiritual power-and should be drummed out of the immortal Muses. What is Genius? The created creating under the inspiration of the Creator. Its materials are wide as the universe; and the universe is given to man by God-among other ends—that he may so beautify it by genius, that it shall speak to all who see and feel the new beauty, of the wisdom and goodness of the Most High. What is Virtue? Obedience to the moral law revealed by the conscience. What is Religion? Obedience to the conscience, God's vicegerent-and testifying God—that is natural religion; the same obedience to God self-revealed in His word, is revealed religion. And who shall expound the laws of all these holy things-for they are all holy—and with a pencil of light write them down in a code that shall instruct the nations? Hush! hush! hush!

Nay, Jonathan, we never do things by halves, and since we are on the Highest Pike, we need not scale the Lower; but Vickars will tell you that, strictly speaking, we are not on Scafell. And down into Wastdale-Head we descend not this evening till we have performed the promise of the morn. Ay, you may all stare. The summit of Scafell, in a straight line, is about twelve hundred yards distant from this our Pike, so says Mudge, and the line of travel is over a passage not less than two miles, the most rugged in Europe. These crags on the south-west, though seeming frightfully to oppose all passage, have been ascended before now by ourselves and Mr Thomas