O'er Fell and Dale 



heather growing on a steep bank, on the ground in a 

 bunch of rushes, in a holly bush, and in a fir tree. 



By way of a change, in 1920 my assistant and I left 

 the fells for a few days and journeyed down to Raven- 

 glass, at the mouth of the River Esk, in order to study 

 sea birds at home in their breeding quarters on and 

 around surely the most wonderful sand-dunes in the 

 world. I have seen and worked amongst sand-hills on 

 the Continent and in different parts of this country, 

 but never saw anything to compare with those at 

 Ravenglass. I have tried hard on more than one occa- 

 sion to record something of their bewitching appeal, but 

 neither my pen nor my camera has proved equal to the 

 task of transfixing their subtle beauty. 



After a hurried evening meal at the village inn I 

 made straight for the little whitewashed cottage where 

 my old friend Farren, the aged boatman, lived, right 

 on the estuary. I wanted to know all about the birds 

 in whose welfare we both took such a keen interest. To 

 my bitter regret I found his cosy little home empty and 

 in the last pathetic stages of dissolution. He had de- 

 parted into the Silences, and the place knew him no 

 more. I looked for the everlasting sweet pea in which 

 the old man took an almost parental interest, as it 

 flowered season by season close to his front door, but 

 alas ! it had also vanished. As I leant against the 

 garden wall, thinking and listening to the moaning of 

 the tide far out on the bar, the old fellow's last act of 

 kindness to the birds and to me came to mind, and my 

 heart was filled with a great sorrow. 



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