"iLiZSJ'astirrater, 315 



saunter by the side of Lingmell Beck, you arrive once more 

 at Wastdale Head/ 



The tourist having visited one or other of these places of 

 interest at Wastdale, and refreshed himself at Ritson's little 

 inn, it will be time to make way towards Calder Bridge, 

 where a bed has been ordered. Our route is by the mar- 

 gin of the far-famed "^iSJ^astlrrater, — the most solemn and 

 imposing of all the lakes. The road winds pleasantly round 

 bays and over promontories. Several brooks and rills are 

 passed flowing down from the hills ; and the stranger ex- 

 claims that he should like to spend a whole summer here, 

 to explore all the ways among the mountains. There are 

 the Screes, with the grey and still lake, — almost too deep 

 to be ever frozen, — lying at the base of their prodigious 

 sweep ! The lake is three and a-half miles long, and The 

 Screes occupies the whole of its south-eastern shore. The 

 line of this singular range is almost unbroken. The crags 

 are hidden, about a third of the way down, by the slope of 

 the many-coloured debris which slants right into the lake. 



The summer thunderstorm and the winter tempest some- 

 times shiver the loosely-compacted crags above ; and then, 

 when a large mass comes thundering down and splashes 

 into the lake, the whole range feels the shock, and sUdes 

 of stones rush into the water \ and clouds of dust rise into 

 the air. 



Perhaps the very best spot for getting a general view of 

 the lake and its surroundings is in the grounds of Wastdale 

 Hall, at the south-eastern end, to do which we believe per- 

 mission will be kindly given at the lodge. After entering 

 the grounds, the visitor should turn to the right and by the 

 path reach the point where he commands the whole stretch 

 of the water. 



