THE ENGLISH LAKE COUNTRY 



then its position is very much so, lying as it were in a 

 shelf looking right over Patterdale and the great 

 Helvellyn range. For, as you stand upon the farther 

 edge of the lake, you see rising above its low, craggy 

 shores, the intervening distance being obliterated, 

 the shadowy peaks of Catchedicam, of Helvellyn, of 

 Fairfield, and other heights, soaring nobly into the 

 sky, looking not their modest three thousand feet or 

 so, but after the manner of all our British mountains 

 in our much abused, but for scenic purposes match- 

 less climate, at least twice that altitude. I know no 

 mountain tarn anywhere that provides of itself so 

 strange a stage behind which is hung like a curtain 

 against the sky this imposing background of mountain 

 peaks. There is, in short, nothing to be seen beyond 

 the brown, ruffled waters of the little lake — for if they 

 are not ruffled the ostensible object of your day is as 

 nought — but the summits of the Helvellyn range. 

 The composition of the picture is rare and extra- 

 ordinarily effective. This is assuredly a nook wherein 

 to spend a happy day with its interludes of repose and 

 activity, for it is quite certain, however propitious the 

 weather, that the fish will encourage you to periods of 

 contemplation, provided of course you are possessed 

 of due discernments and are not a neophyte in the first 

 burst of undiscerning youth. Nor are these restful 

 periods with a congenial spirit to share them the 

 worst part of the day. 



This is not one of your grisly and gruesome tarns, 

 though I love these others too, in wild weather, when 

 they are at their worst — that is, at their best. Hayes- 

 water can be all that to great perfection. But Angle 



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