A BOTAXICAL SCRAMBLE ON HELVELLYN. O 



what turned out to be nothing more than a few mountain sheep. So great 

 are the magnifying and distorting powers of the mist in this region, that it 

 required all our faculties to resist the suspicion that we were in fairy land, 

 and that these were the freaks of some mountain spirit. 



The summit was gained, and instead of the gorgeous views which all climbers 

 expect to be rewarded with, we beheld some ten feet square of ground, a 

 pile of stones, our own bodies, and a majestic sea of mist. Turning eastward, 

 we were within a few paces of the edge which nods down into the solemn 

 Red Tarn, and what a terrible precipice it seemed! Even my companion, 

 who knew every inch of the ground, and was well aware that far from being 

 a perpendicular fall, the rocks could, though not without danger, be descended 

 for six hundred feet, to the edge of the tarn, could not deny that the sight 

 was one well calculated to inspire the gazer with a peculiar feeling of awe. 

 We spent fully an hour with our faces in the direction of the tarn, without 

 catching the slightest glimpse of it, till at length a faint silvery crescent 

 appeared for a moment, and was again lost in a misty shroud: gradually, 

 however, under the influence of a south breeze, the thin vapours flew away 

 like aflrighted spectres, and the quiet mountain lake lay before us, with the 

 dreadful Stridding Edge walling it in on our right, and the equally appalling 

 Swirrel Edge protecting it on our left, and ending in a conical hill, bearing the 

 high-sounding name Catkhedecam — the high-crested. — 



""VYhat lovely magnificence stretches around! 

 Each sight how sublime! and how awful each sound! 

 All hush'd and serene as a region of dreams, 

 The mountains repose 'mid the roar of the streams, 

 Their glens of deep umbrage by cataracts riven, 

 But calm their blue tops in the beauty of Heaven." 



Looking over Swirrel Edge, a glimpse of Kepple Cove Tarn is obtained* and 



over Stridding Edge, Eagle Crag, a famous botanical station, is seen. Gradually 



the sky brightened, and far in the east, two of the reaches of fair Ullswater 



became visible; 



"The calm blue lake, low whispering to the beach 

 In tones more eloquent than mortal speech," 



and the green tops of Dunmellet, and half-planted Soulby Fell, were as plain 

 as the rock beside us. 



Thinking that we might now do so in safety, we began to descend by 

 Swirrel Edge, coming now and then upon tufts of the rare Garex rigida, 

 and the equally good Juncus triglumis. These we took in high glee, but 

 we had a better than either in view: rumour had whispered that the Alpine 

 Mouse-ear Chiekweed, (Gerastium alpinum,) was to be found on these rocks, 

 and a generous rivalry arose between us, striving which should get the first 

 specimen, if it was to be got at all. At length the woolly leaves of our 

 friend were discovered, and a shout of joy echoed from at least a dozen rocks. 

 The patch was but small, had no flowers, and only one or two of the horn-like 

 capsules, but with renewed vigour we continued our search, despite the rain, 



