DUNGEON GILL. 
109 
In some parts of the Pyrenees I have observed 
the same custom, and when the hay was made 
it was gathered together in a large sheet, tied 
up, and carried away on the heads of women to 
the rick. It is rather a scramble to reach the 
Hymenophyllum at Dungeon Gill, but mine host 
at the little inn is expert in giving help, and, 
moreover, he is a botanist, and found us many 
rare wild flowers that would have escaped a less 
experienced eye. The inn is far removed from any 
other habitation, and the master told me that he 
found botany the greatest resource during the many 
anxious days he passed, before the Lake season 
really set in, waiting for visitors who would not 
come. How great the poor man's anxieties were 
his keen, watchful eje, his pale, anxious face, too 
fully denoted. He had been in service ; this inn 
was to be let ; he married a good girl whom he had 
long loved, and began life hopefully. The first 
year all went well, but by-and-by another inn was 
built in a more convenient situation. Visitors 
dropped off to the rival house, and the poor young 
