I.
In our summer fishings, one of the spots to which we used to resort was a quaint cottage in the vale of Duddon—the Duddon that Wordsworth has immortalised in his series of sonnets. The cottage stood hard by the stream, and in it lived a widow woman, the daughter of a hill "statesman." During trout-time the house was embowered in greenery. Deliciously cool was its whitewashed porch and clean sanded floor, a great tree standing over all. In the grate of her parlour in summer, where Mr. Wordsworth often used to sit, she invariably had a thick sod of purple heather in full bloom. To the stream many anglers came, and drew from their holds the pink-spotted trout. The dipper and kingfisher darted by the door, and those who drank in the quiet and pastoral peace of Duddon never forgot it. The woman of the cottage, by great industry and exertion, had reared and settled comfortably in life a large family. She was respected by all about her. Out of her small means she gave away almost as much food and home-brewed ale as was sold by any inn of the country-side. For one in so limited a sphere in life hers was almost an ideal one; and yet her end was terribly tragic. She left home one wintry afternoon to visit a sick relation in Eskdale. At this time "pedlars"—of whom the Wanderer of "The Excursion" is a type—were common in remote country districts; and one of these offered to convey her in his gig to her destination over the Birk-Moor road. At the end of this he was to take her up at a stated time. It happened that she was too late for the traveller, but walked onward, supposing that he was behind and would overtake her. On the sixth day after this, the clergyman's daughter from Eskdale casually called at the poor woman's cottage. It then became known that she had not been seen at Eskdale, and a band of dalesfolk at once set out to search the Fells. The body of the poor creature was found only forty yards from the road, her hands and knees terribly lacerated and her dress torn. These showed that after losing the power of walking she had struggled on, no one knows how far, upon her hands and knees. She had taken out her spectacles, as was thought, to assist her in seeing her way through the blinding mists. These had prevailed for a week, and to them must be attributed the fact that her body lay so long undiscovered on the mountain road. Some sweetmeats tied in a handkerchief, which she had carried for her grandchildren, were found near the spot where she died.
None but those who have been caught in them can form any idea of how terrible are mountain snowstorms. Blinding and bewildering, both men and animals quickly succumb to them. Clouds and banks of snow rush hither and thither in opaque masses; the bitter hail and sleet seem to drive through you. A few moments after the storm breaks every wrap is soaked through; the cold is intense, and a sense of numbness soon takes possession of the entire body. Twice has the writer narrowly escaped death on the northern mountains in winter, deliverance upon one occasion being made barely in time by a search-party of shepherds.
Easdale is one of the most picturesque glens among the Cumbrian mountains—"a spot made by nature for herself." With its tarn, its ghyll-contained waterfall, and the fact of its being placed among the splintery peaks of the Borrowdale series, it constitutes a wildly charming spot at every season. Here upon the snow, many years ago, was played a cruel tragedy indeed. A poor hard-working peasant and his wife, named Green, were returning from Langdale late on a wintry evening to their home in Easdale. A terrible storm overtook them on the way, and, becoming exhausted, both died in it. Meanwhile six children were snow-bound in their cottage, where, without help, they remained several days. Fully appreciating their situation, but as yet ignorant of the fate which had befallen their parents, a little lass of nine assumed command and exhibited unusual forethought and care in meeting the home wants of her brothers and sisters. After some days she made her escape from the cottage, and told the hill shepherds how her father and mother had failed to return. A search party was organised; and after some time the bodies were discovered upon the hills at a short distance from each other.