The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1893-07-30
WAKENAN'S WANDERINCS.
In the Land Of Wordsworth, COleT-
idge and SOuthey.

ing Ecstasy From Material and Spir-
ituaI Content-the Noted Keswick
Conventions and Their Founder Can
on acknowledgements Assem-
blages Seeking Alone Resting
Faith"
Copyright 1899
Keswick, Eng, July Is. - My first
nights experience in this ancient Cum
brian capital of the English lake district
was so peculiar a one, that in my pilgrim
ings in Britain I am often drawn back
here at this pleasant season Of the year,
for an undefnable sort of contemplation
and rest. had come over the mountains
on foot from vagrant loiterings among the
peasantry of Miterdale, Wasdale, Wetend-
lath and BOrrowdale, and striking into
the old coach road from Windermere, had
fingered a bit in the mystic vale of St.
John.
Resuming my way along the coach road
leading over bold Castle Rigg into Kes-
wick, being dusty and travel-stained and
doubtless regarded as tramp by the hun
dredS of tourists passing in their gay
coaches, traps, gigs and wagOnetteS, saw
American manners abroad illustrated by
d millionaire American tourist, whom l
recognized, tossing the remains of a lench
hamper upon my head and shoulders, at
which exploit his acknowledgements brood
laughed merrily and long, English man
ners eXemplitied by several gentlemen
attempting TO cut my shoulders or face
as they dashed past; and Scotch and
Irish manners shown by a delicious old
ScOtchman and an equally delicious
young Dublin barrister-men of account
in their separate places, in their vacation
time really seeking the lake country on
their own legs-jogging along towards
Grasmere together, contending with
amiable ferocity as to which race had
priority to Britain, and both, as they met
me, as valiantly insisting on being the
first to acCOSt me and offer me
roadside consolation from their respective
TASKS.
With these and like engaging diversions
| trudged cheerily to the north up Cas-
tie Rigg. Reaching its top turned for d
farewell look towards the glorious south
eIn scenes of the lake region. On the
one hand were the seemingly endless fells,
OdOrOus with the blooming heath and
here and there masses of blue from banks
of violets, a gentle breeze stirring the
sea-lilze expanse of color as if with riot
Gus motion and delight. On the other,
as if some misty cauldron fashioned out
of a neither earth, the purple shapes and
shadows of st. Johns Vale; and above
it-below, within and above the clouds
monarch Helvellyn -fOrest-hung at its
base; cleft and SCARED above; still highI
er, striped with understanding torrents
like mighty plumes of white; and it's
lofty broken summit and famous "Strid-
ing-Edge' showing thousands of blacken-
ed almost vertical burrows in the
eternal stone of its peaks and ridges
If here was one of those ravishing
scenes which can never be effaced from
the memory, but a few steps over the
mountain top furnished another of equal
beauty and impressiveness. 1t was per-
haps an hour before sunset, and the glori-
Gus vale of Keswick or Derwentwater, a
thousand feet below, came full and fair
in view. Keswick, gray and snug, was
half hidden within its bosom. To the
right Saddleback and Souter fell lay in
lofty billowy mirrors against the
horizon, and the silverly threads of
Greta river wound in and out of the
lush meadows below. To the left and
| the west cleaned the upper reaches of
Derwentwater with the heights of Causey
| Pike and Grassmoor beyond, peaks of
! saffron and purple in the slant rays of the
sinking sun. Beyond the tower of old
Crossthwaite church, where SOuthey lies
| buried, shone the blue bed of Bassenth-
waite Water. And beyond the whole
lovely vale where the farms were spread
in checkered splatches of color between
sinuoUS threads of hedge and wall, lofty
| SkiddaW stood monarch sublime of the
Cumbrian North.
On my lettering way down into the
town | came to a quaint, little crooked
roof house, trim and neat and tidy as a
clipper old woman at pleasant fair.
Chestnut Hilln was the inscription upon
!
stood sentry beside the cottage. An old
| serving-man was cropping the hedge by
the gate. l stood and looked at the place
for little time, for it seemed TO me the
| house must have a history. The old man,
observing my own observance, paused in
his toll, drew his horny fingers slowly
along the hedge-shears, andssaid with an
air of proprietary superiority:
Am We ma weel leuk agin an agin,
neebor.'
| looked and looked again as hidden,
but so inquiringly that the old man, re-
suming his hedgeclipping and clearing
his throat as if for portentious announce
ment, cOndeCended to explain:
Twas in this vera hoOs master
! Shelley lid wi t. babbey wife, lang syne
Tha pleed (played) an pleed, an niver
wark d, till t. laid dreav n DOT. T. beuk-
| ish (bOokish) folk balas (always) ha'
| now 4 Uub pee IL LudulutI II II NeWlUleuL
! (sorrow). Tha be nOwte at dowe!". Git
| for uothing).
l thanked him for the bitter reminder
| of a great truth. which carried the sad
memory with it that this was indeed the
| veritable cottage where Shelley brought
! his schoolgirl BRIDE and where they
| chased each other like happy children
| about its flower beds and little lawn,
until the stern Cumbrian landlord chased
Of
with this plaintive romance still in mind
| turned up past Greta bridge into the
! quiet though crowded streets of Keswick
The old Cumbrian capital clusters close
! ly on either side of one long street which
/ turns abruptly at its centre, and at some
| distance from this begins to straggle
away nOrthward, countryward, TO lonely
! and ancient CrOssthwaite church Fac
ing this street. or Just removed within
| curious and often winSOme courts and
| closes, are centuries-old shops, homes and
inns. The shops are just as they stood
almost SO long ago as when this region
was Little Britain, and hundreds of pack
! horses passed and repaSsed daily with
| their rude mountain traffic. The homes
are almost as they were in the sixteenth
and seventeenth centuries, with their
solid old doors, tiny windows, protruding
! upper stories, picturesque gables, trim
! dormers, and curious hand-worked oak,
| iron and brass And the inns are lust as
| they were when they lodged the true
| geuii of the lake district, GRAY, Scott and
] N i