The day after we came, we climbed a high and pretty steep hill,
through a path shadowed with trees and shrubbery, up to a tower, from the
summit of which we had a wide view of mountain scenery and the greater
part of Windermere. This lake is a lovely little pool among the hills,
long and narrow, beautifully indented with tiny bays and headlands; and
when we saw it, it was one smile (as broad a smile as its narrowness
allowed) with really brilliant sunshine. All the scenery we have yet met
with is in excellent taste, and keeps itself within very proper bounds,--
never getting too wild and rugged to shock the sensibilities of
cultivated people, as American scenery is apt to do. On the rudest
surface of English earth, there is seen the effect of centuries of
civilization, so that you do not quite get at naked Nature anywhere. And
then every point of beauty is so well known, and has been described so
much, that one must needs look through other people's eyes, and feels as
if he were seeing a picture rather than a reality. Man has, in short,
entire possession of Nature here, and I should think young men might
sometimes yearn for a fresher draught. But an American likes it.
FURNESS ABBEY.
Yesterday, July 12th, we took a phaeton and went to Furness Abbey,--a
drive of about sixteen miles, passing along the course of the Leam to
Morecambe Bay, and through Ulverton and other villages.
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