THE ANGLER'S SOUVENIR. 



mings which boots and the hostler have carried 

 up in a clothes-basket. Thinking to find something 

 like solitude in the desert, he takes the lonely road 

 to Buttermere up Borrowdale ; but still he cannot 

 escape the lakers, who cross him at every turn of 

 the dale. Three boats have just discharged their 

 living freight at the head of the lake as he passes 

 Lowdore ; under the lee of the Bowder stone sits a 

 Cambridge youth, who is studying for honours, 

 with his tutor at his side, cramming him with 

 choice morsels from Vince and Wood's alas ! how 

 unlike Kay's, of the Albion dry and insipid, 

 though solid course. On the top, on a three-legged 

 portable stool, is seated an artist sketching ; and 

 at the base is a member of the Geological Society, 

 hammer in hand, chipping off specimens, which his 

 lady carefully gathers up and deposits in her reti- 

 cule the future foundations of another new theory 

 of the earth. At Rosthwaite greater annoyance 

 awaits him ; for there does he behold, in that here- 

 tofore quiet and secluded spot, a party of young 

 men and maidens quadrilling it to the melancholy 

 wailings of a pale-faced young gentleman's flute ; 

 and on arriving at Buttermere, tired, and out of 

 humour with himself, the lakes, and their visitors, 

 he finds that he can only be lodged in a double- 

 bedded room, where he is entertained all night with 

 a trombone solo, from the nose of a stout gentle- 

 man who occupies the other bed, and whose double- 

 bass quaver which is a repeat, con strepito, every 



