THE YOUNG 



NATURALIST. 827 



green of the meadows and a gaunt spectre- 

 like disused limekiln betoken the presence 

 of the Yoredale limestone. Every inhabitant 

 of the dale — man, woman, and child — are 

 out hay-making, for grass is their only crop 

 and this is their harvest time. We hear 

 the whirr of the reaper, and the swish of 

 the scythe wielded by the sturdy dalesmen, 

 see the deftly-handled rake manipulated by 

 rosy-cheeked damsels, and are initiated into 

 all the mysteries of whaups, cocks, pikes, &c. 

 But the miller's words come true. Mickle 

 Fell put on his cap of mist, a gentle rain 

 begins to fall which soon develops into a 

 steady downpour ; we philosophically resign 

 ourselves to a thorough wetting when fortu- 

 nately the clouds begin to lighten, the sun 

 struggles forth, and we have no more rain 

 all day. Botanically the district is tame 

 and uninteresting, there is no variety in the 

 vegetation. The swampy spots produce 

 only the coarsest and commonest rushes 

 and sedges, and the drier, fell bents and 

 grasses. By the roadside we gather the 

 neat little white-flowered knotted pearlwort 

 (sagina nodosa), and in a muddy runnel one 

 of the white-flowered aquatic ranunculi 

 (Ranunculus Lenormatidi j , a plant not yet 

 recorded for Durham and only once found 

 in Northumberland, but of other varieties 

 we find none. The luxuriant growth of the 

 purple selfheal, or heart of the earth (Pru- 

 nella vulgaris), indicates the siliceous, gritty, 

 sour character of the soil, making it hopeless 

 of a remunerative return for cereal cultiva- 

 tion. But at length the chequered landscape 

 with its interminable fences is left behind, 

 the last gate swings open, and we are on 

 the open trackless moor, with nothing but 

 peat and heather between us and the vale 

 of Eden. We rapidly descend to the bed of 

 the stream, now shrunk to the dimensions 

 of a mountain burn, brawling over a bed of 

 gigantic boulders, whence probably the 

 name of Balder or Boulders beck and dale 

 has originated. A moiety of our party here 



try their fortune at fishing, whilst the enthu- 

 siastic herborirers commence their search 

 for the rare plant (Saxifraga Hirculus) they 

 have come so far to seek. Its locality forty 

 years ago in this, its only Yorkshire, station 

 is very plainly indicated in Baine's H Flora 

 of Yorkshire," but it has evidently been 

 unable to survive the vicissitudes of the 

 past half century, for we search carefully 

 and zealously for it in vain. The rounded 

 moors here closely hem in the contracted 

 vale, which is rarely more than one hundred 

 yards in width. The stream meanders from 

 side to side, and we have often to crocs it 

 on slippery stepping-stones — securing peeled 

 shins and wet feet — to avoid the precipitous 

 crags on either side, or to pass the steep 

 gullies which seam and drain the adjacent 

 moors. The vegetation becomes scantier 

 the higher we get, the purple foxglove and 

 yellow hawkweed being the most conspicu- 

 our flowers, and we contrast the rich botani- 

 cal treasures of the neighbouring Teesdale 

 tract. The only living beings in sight are 

 the wild mountain sheep, which hurry away 

 at our approach, and the dark water ouzel 

 flitting from stone to stone. On we go, 

 passing numerous affluents, until, ascending 

 a steep knoll, which seems to bar our 

 further progress, we see the various sources 

 of the Balder emerging in tiny rills from 

 the swampy peaty moor. We are reluctantly 

 compelled to be contented with the negative 

 satisfaction that our rarity is not now to be 

 found, so, after repeating Wordsworth's 

 lines, viz., 



The wandering botanist — who, clear alike 

 From vain, and that worse evil, vexing thoughts, 

 Casts on these uncou h forma a si gnt regard 

 Of transitory interest, and peeps round 

 For some rare floweret of the hills, or plant 

 Of craggy fountain. What he hopes for wins, 

 Or learns at least that 'tis not to be won j 

 Then keen and eager as a fine-nosed hound, 

 By soul-engrossing instinct driven along, 

 Through wood or open field tue harmless mass 

 Departs, intent upon his onward guest : 



we retrace our steps, rejoin our friends, and 

 after a stiff walk reach Cotherstone in tim« 

 to catch the train for home. 



