Shenandoah herald. [volume] (Woodstock, Va.) 1865-1974, 1885-05-08
From the Sunday School Times.
DAY At FURkESS ABBEY.
BY MARGARET J. PRESTON.

No'b"htea A"H'al f"A'J ~ 10 ~
BOwness, on Lake Wildermere,
about 20 miles from the spot where
now write, Keswick, on Derwent-
water. Bowness is one of the
quaintest towns have seen in Eng
land, and has an air of antiquity
which its six or seven hundred
years of age will hardly warrant.
Its streets slope from the waters
edge up to the crest of the hill, on
which the pretty Grown Hotel
stands, clustered over with honey
suckles aud roses. ss.
The villages in the Lake District
'have pecnlarity OF their own, and
are unlike any l elsewhere saw in
England. They are built of the
slaty stone that abounds in this re-
gion, and as their streets are tagged
with the same, they would have a
melancholy greyness, were it not
for the laughing brightness Of the
flowers, in which every little cottage
nestIes roof deep. never imagined.
such a riot of ivy as there is every
where among these beautiful Cum
berland aud Westmorelaadi lakes.
tEvery.roadside cottage is covered
with it to its chimney pots.
every wall clothes itself with it as
with a mantle-the great bouldcrs,
which are a marked feature in the
landscape here, are green with 1t.
Why 1t should grow with a rapidity
and luxuriaIce here unknown to
the South of England, | am not
able to say. Iul
AS Bowness is a very convenient
centre from which to make excur-
sions to every part of the Lake re-
gion, l must be allowed to say a
few words more about it. 1t lies
along Lake Windermefe, the largest
and most beautiful of all these ex-
Quisite sheets of water that help to
make this North of England one
of the most delicious spots, for
consummate beauty, in all the
world. Certainly the three king
doms can show nothing like it,
The little cove at Bowness is at all
times flashing with scores Of pleas
ure. boats, whose crimson cushions
and floating pennons give it a most
brilliant appearance. Small, swift
steamers constantly ply up and
down the bright waters, and as
they have bands on board, ,-pipers
and fddlefs, ,@tbe tourist is con-
stantly moving to the sound of
music. One of our party, who had
been up and down the lake so often
that he had gotten tired of drop.
ping sixpences into the perpetual
hat, said, on one Of our excursions,
to the old Scotchman who passed it
around, Not another pennyplThe
bonheted piper meekly took his
seat, and inalittle while The Star
Spangled Banner was struck up,
and played with reatvigor. When
1tAe bat for the third time made its
rounds, the American heart of our
companion was so stirred that all
his sixpences went.
The old church at Bowness dates
back five hundred years, and is a
well.preseryed specimen ofthe arch.
itecture of that period. Along the
nave, quaint wooden arches spring
across from the tops of the pillars,
inscribed on each side with verses
from Scripture in black-letter-
Lowell, in his Cathedral,' speaks of
The great east window of divine surprise
The east window in Bowness
Church was such to us. 1t was
made Of the fine stained glass res
cued from Furness Abbey at its
destruction, and was filled with
medallion pietures, wrought with
lrare'delicacyl and feeling In one
of the aisles we were shown one of
/, the fov chained Bibles that yet re.
main in England, the chain being
strong, andapoBderous enough to
pull a,eart. ds ngay f3a"'si f..
One of the most delightful ex-
cHrsiOns a tourist can make from
Bowness is to Furness Abbey,
which, by the help Of steamer aud
rail, he can accomplish in a'day,
leaving several hours on his hands
for sightseeing. We stepped on
board. rapid little steamer, The
Gygnet, and were soon flying down
the lake. The beauty of the shores
of Windermere is something be.
yond description. The cultivation
OF the wooded slopes is perfect,
and from end to end they are stud
ded withvillas, hidden away amid
their parks. No wonder that
Wordsworth and Southey and
Coleridge and Chrii topher North
and DIR. Arnold and Huskin seem
to grow extravagant over the
dreamlike beauty Of this scenery
One of our party insisted upon
quoting Wordsworth at every turn,
till the rest we're ready to cry
'Holdp
a few miles brought us to Lake
side, the station where We took
train to FurHess. Its walls are so
completely covered with ivy and
Towering vines that it might read
lily be mistaken for the picturesque
lodge at the entrance Of a gentle
mans OroundR Tile dav was one