Morning journal and courier., 1891-05-16
MIR. WAKEMAN,S JOURNEYINGS.

At AmDles1de-Heauty of the English
 Lake Dfstrict-Hov it Satisfies Eve-
 ny Faculty of Vision and Mind-Its
 Extent - Picturesqueness of Its
 Towns and Hamlets-A Wonder
 land of SubIimity and Peace-Scen-
 ic Glory.
 AMBLEsIDE, England, May 4. To the Editor of the JOURNAL AND COURIER:
 A German writer has truly said: "There can be no guide to lover of na- ture but that love itself" No pen painter who has ever lived, or will ever live, has limned or can ever depict in a page or a book the beauties of the English lake re- zion. There never has been printed an adequate guide; and even were the best one that could be made provided, the traveller who comes here to see with his eyes and heart, would suffer greater from It's insuficiency than find delight in it's expositions. This is true because in the first place no one with pen or brush can produce on single page or canvas sin gle picture comprising manifold expres sion. It would be human impossibility to comprehend in any series of descrip Oioho ci poiAClhSo buS olStluCJ duo glowing scenes which the region furnishes. And, even could this be done, then there would still be lacking all those glorious promptings to emotional enjoyment from associative interest, which the beholder of the actual scene can never have interpre- ted to him by another.
 In many years almost continuous travel in Europe I have never come upon any other place which 50 satisfied in endless variety of change and mood every faculty of vision and mind; every pure activity of thought and memory; every tender capability of heart and soul. In ths near ly six thousand square miles of the region there is not square foot from which can l not be contemplated more than one sub lime or exquisitely beautiful aspect of na- ture. Your eye can nowhere sweep the horizon line without discovering some relic of the prehistoric or medieval past, rife with countless wraithful suggestions and conjectures. Every lowly home within the region tells of peasantry unique, in teresting, contented and hospitable. Its | towns and hamlets have picturesqueness | all their own, yet are so harmonious with their mountain scenery surroundings as to seem growing out of the very rocks upon which they stand. And in all things or l persons one sees or meets, there is an end | less and gentle reminder of high-souled men and women who were drawn here to become, through the psalms of their lives and pens, the exalted genii of this won- derland of sublimity, beauty and peace. Everywhere is scenic glory here. But the wild, sweet undertones that tremble in ev- cry leaf and blade of grass, that sound in every tumbling waterfall, that arc borne in every passing breeze, form the inex- pressible witchery which thrills the being where these loving genii dwell.
 Take simply the few miles, perhaps nine, from Bowness north through Windermere, Ambleside and Rydal to Grasmere. to il- lustrate the superhuman task you would have in attempting to convey to another what one sees, recalls and feels, through out the entire lake region. You could make a great volume full of glorious paintings, winsome descriptions, exquisite incidents, memories almost as comprehen- sive as the wide domain of English Eters
 ture, and sweet with tender philosophi.
 zings: and then but have barely hinted al
 the maiectic book of nature and reminis
 cence which lies open for the enjoyment
 of all who come. The village of Bowness
 is one of the quaintest and sweetest old
 nests in England. It is dreamful maze
 of inextricable streets whose houses are
 almost wholly covered with roses and ivy
 The east window of it's square-towered lit
 tie church is one of the oldest in England
 having been taken from that once mos
 magnificent of all of England's ancient
 monastic edifces, Furness Abbey. TEe
 place is hidden beneath gigantic trees or
 the eastern shore of the queen of the Eng
 fish lakes, Windermere.
 Climb Brant Fell behind it. The lake
 immediately beneath to the west, stretches from the lower Furness Fells, in Lanca
 shire, to Ambleside in Westmoreland forms liquid valley of blue, set witl
 numberless emerald islets, its mountain shores merging into purple depths at tn far north, where grim Helvellyn lifts it curved crest beyond the sublime isolation of mighty Helm Graz. The ocean blue O Morecambe Bay glints beyond the puc sands of Lancaster to the south. Els 7 thwaite and Coniston Water gimme 5 among the western fe1ls, and Hard Kno
 and Coniston Old Man form mighty senti nels in the background in the direction c 3 the Irish sea. It is sublime spectacle l But along with it is the ever welcome ele ment of soft and tender beauty Tn l lower masses of larch nearest the water 3 edge are like gigantic pillows of emerald T These merge in graceful lines into the mol 8 somber fir, which, bank on bank and wa1 2 on wave above, roll upwards in noble ul y dulations, often to the very crests of loft Q mountains; while hslf-seeu cottaQes pee,