CLEAR WATERS 



tarn is open and sunny, with all its solitude. The 

 plaintive tweeting tit-lark and the restless sandpiper, 

 fussy for the safety of its hidden young, are always 

 with you. Perhaps a brood of shy ring-ousels about 

 the rocky crown of some higher knoll with raucous 

 note proclaim their presence, or even a stray grouse 

 may be flushed on your first approach. The favourite 

 mountain route from Patterdale to Mardale over the 

 High Street passes Angle tarn, to be sure. But if 

 you were to spend every day of a week up here, 

 even in a holiday time, you would understand how 

 comparatively few people nowadays care for mountain 

 walking. 



It is nearly a two-hours' walk up to Angle tarn, 

 and the first part of it sidles up Boredale hause looking 

 straight down upon Patterdale with Ullswater glimmer- 

 ing below, and the silver thread of the Goldrill twisting 

 for miles up its narrow meadowy carpet to where 

 Brotherswater gleams beneath the dark foot of the 

 Kirkstone pass. What a panorama is here as you 

 tramp up to your fishing ground, leisurely, and perhaps 

 a little purHngly, being of necessity not long after 

 breakfast, and halting betimes, for which in truth there 

 is no need to make excuse. Who that has ever looked 

 down on Patterdale, bathed in the sunshine of a fresh 

 June morning, would demand one ? Don't talk to 

 me of the Rocky Mountains ! I know them and have 

 stayed among them, and pace SS. companies, emigration 

 agents, governor-generals, special correspondents, and 

 all the rest of it, I wouldn't give a day in Patterdale 

 for a week at Banff. Indeed, these great Canadian 

 mountains are at their best from the slow travelling 



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