KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



73 



were from its wild descent, assumes a pel- 

 lucid clearness, sufficient to tempt the tourist 

 to pause for a while in admiring rapture. 

 The sides of the stream were composed of 

 soft bog, formed by loose growing moss and 

 marsh plants ; the montia fontana, known in 

 less classic language as the Blinks, being by- 

 no means scarce. Huge pieces of rock, of 

 porphyritic green stone, were covered by 

 rose root, saxifrages, and lycopodiums, while 

 their interstices bore abundant fronds of 

 feathery fern, and the lovely alpine Lady's 

 mantle. 



Animal life was scarce. Very few birds 

 cared to waste their sweetness on the desert 

 air, at the hour of eight in the morning; 

 and butterflies prefer the sunshine to the 

 damp fog of the hills. Shells were out of the 

 question, for primary rocks yield too small a 

 supply of lime to tempt the moliusca to 

 build on them. In short, plants only were 

 to be found ; and to them I purpose to devote 

 this page of my note -book. 



We had already climbed about 1,500 feet 

 of the mountain, despite the rapidly in- 

 creasing mist, when the stream parts into 

 two forks or feeders ; and taking that to the 

 left, passed over a gentle incline for about a 

 mile to the top. No one who has never 

 ventured on a fell side, amid mist and rain, 

 can have the smallest conception of the 

 magical feats performed by these fleecy 

 clouds, so different in character from their 

 cousins — the fogs of London. The interven- 

 tion of a thin cloud of mist, between the ob- 

 server and object looked at, annihilates dis- 

 tance ; adds a thousand feet to the elevation 

 of the opposite hills ; and cuts off at least 

 five sixths of its distance from us. Sheep 

 grazing on the mountain top, become sud- 

 denly transformed into gigantic oxen ; and 

 as suddenly resume their own diminutive 

 forms. Passing through all these interesting 

 sights, and many more of a like nature, 

 imagine us on the summit of old Helvellyn, 

 some 3,055 feet above the sea, with a. mag- 

 nificent view of a wide expanse of — mist. 

 Seating ourselves on the pile of sharp stones, 

 known as the Alan, we anxiously awaited the 

 genial influence of the sun's rays, hoping 

 they would soon dispel the mist which en- 

 shrouded the entire landscape. Behind 

 us was the gradual slope, by which we 

 had gained our present position ; and be- 

 fore, at a distance of only a few feet, what 

 seemed to be a dreadful precipice, with a 

 wide sea of vapor at its bottom ; and there 

 we knew must be looked for — the famous Red 

 Tarn, rendered romantic by the death of the 

 unfortunate tourist, Gough ; and more than 

 classical, by the lines of Wordsworth and 

 Scott. Not a vestige of the little mountain 

 lake could be seen ; indeed, we concluded 

 that we had lost the object of our visit, 



and all but feared that we had missed our 

 way. 



There is something truly grand in the 

 uncertainty felt by the stranger, who, having 

 toiled his way to a lofty eminence, feels a 

 doubt in his mind as to whether he has 

 actually left the land of dreams, for the more 

 than dreamland of an alpine wilderness ; and 

 is rather strengthened in his suspicions than 

 otherwise, by a sudden gleam of sunshine 

 revealing, for a second or two, a sunlit rock, 

 or a golden lake — again to be swallowed up 

 in the lap of mystery ! Having satisfied our- 

 selves with these rich peeps, 



"Like angel visits, few and far between," 



we began to descend by the . rugged and 

 dangerous path toward the ridge known as 

 Swirrel Edge. Our object being to examine 

 the rich botanical treasures of the rocks, 

 over which we had looked from the summit, 

 and which stretch between Swirrel Edge and 

 Stridding Edge, we continued about half 

 way above the tarn, into which a single false 

 step would have precipitated us from a 

 height of nearly one hundred feet. Plants 

 we got in abundance ; and of such rarity, that 

 spite of a cold and soaking rain, we gave 

 vent to our joy — now in faint murmurs of 

 delight, and again in loud huzzas. One of 

 these latter demonstrations was answered by 

 something louder than an echo, followed by 

 a long " hallo-o-o-o !" It was evident that we 

 were not the only tourists who had ventured 

 on the wilds of Helvellyn, on that most un- 

 likely of all clays in the season. By repeated 

 noisy calls, we got the others to understand 

 our inquiry as to the route they were pur- 

 suing ; and learned, rather to our chagrin, 

 that they were passing from Grassmere to 

 Patterdale over Stridding Edge, and there- 

 fore we would not enjoy the poor solace of 

 meeting them. 



The rain continued, but the mist gave 

 way ; and first the lonely Red Tarn became 

 distinctly visible, bounded on the left by 

 Swirrel Edge, a long thin ridge of moun- 

 tains, terminated by a curious conical hill, 

 the renowned Catchedecam ; and on the 

 right by the sharp rugged Stridding Edge. 

 Then the scene widened, and the bottom 

 reach of Ullswater was given to view with 

 Dumellet, Soulby Fell, and a number of 

 other hills, all familiar to us. So clear did 

 the atmosphere become towards the bottom 

 of the lake, that the houses on Pooley Bridge, 

 and the two-arched bridge from which its 

 name is derived, were as sharply defined as 

 if our distance from them had been but as 

 many yards as it was miles. 



Passing over huge square blocks of green- 

 stone, we reached Stridding Edge, at its junc- 

 tion with the parent mountain : we then as- 

 cended one of the wildest pieces of rock I 

 ever set foot upon. My energies had been 



