ON A SHOULDER OF THE 'OLD MAN'

'The ascent becomes dismally laborious here, so much so, that you are fain to lie down upon the soft, dry mountain grass, to recover breath, and while doing so, what objection can you have to a little conversation with the Old Man himself? Listen, then!

'Old Man! Old Man! your sides are brant,
And fearfully hard to climb;
My limbs are weak, and my breath is scant,
So I'll rest me here and rhyme.'
'Yes, my sides are steep, and my dells are deep,
And my broad bald brow is high,
And you'll ne'er, should you rhyme till the limit of time,
Find worthier theme than I.
'My summit I shroud in the weltering cloud,
And I laugh at the tempest's din;
I am girdled about with stout rock without,
And I've countless wealth within.
'My silence is broke by the raven's croak,
And the bark of the mountain fox;
And mine echoes awake to the brown glead's shriek,
As he floats by my hoary rocks.'
Dr. A. C. Gibson: Ravings and Ramblings Round Coniston.

Photo by Herbert Bell, Ambleside.

HAWKESHEAD, FROM ESTHWAITE WATER.

The Residence of Dr. Gibson, and Burial-place of Miss Elizabeth Smith.

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