STOKE-POGES, WHERE GRAY'S "ELEGY" WAS WRITTEN
We left the train at Leeds to see the ruins of Kirkstall Abbey, catching the next through train by driving to Skipton, and here began the most picturesque scenery I have found in England.
The valley of Craven consists of meadows similar to those of Chester and Warwick, but they are softer and greener; the same hedges, but darker, higher, and more velvety. The woods behind them set them off to advantage, and here and there, sparkling in the sunlight, are little lakes. The winding white roads and beautiful roses are everywhere. We passed a cañon cut in the rocks, with cliffs as high as one can see, then the blue hills of Cumberland burst on our vision.
This mountain region, called the English Lake District, is said by the English to be the most beautiful spot in the British Isles, but the Scotch and the Irish each claim the same superlative. I shall see them all, and shall give you an unprejudiced opinion, but certain it is that within these limits lies a wealth of scenery not to be very far surpassed anywhere.
Have you the slightest idea what an English meadow is like? I had not, until today. This one has hills on either side with the clear blue Windermere at their feet. The white roads wind in and out, with this cluster of villas all covered with roses, and an old rustic bridge near by. I am writing this in the sweetest and cleanest of rooms, from the window of which I see the purple hills in the west and the sun just sinking behind them.
EN ROUTE:
The sail on Lake Windermere was delightful. The boat touched at a number of picturesque places once frequented by Scott, Wordsworth, Shelley and Southey, landing us at Ambleside about ten in the morning. Here the coach was waiting to take us on one of the loveliest drives in Great Britain. All the way we glided over the same smooth roads, with mountains on one side and Lake Grasmere at our feet. We visited the cottage where Wordsworth lived, the one in which Coleridge died, and the home of Harriet Martineau. What wonder that these dear people wrote so poetically! One must find expression for one's dreams in this land of beauty.
We reached Keswick just in time to board the train for Penrith, where we changed for Carlisle. Here we took time to visit the old castle and the really fine cathedral before leaving for Melrose, Scotland.