Amys and Amyllion.
The year had by this time worn onward to the last days of summer, or one might almost say to the earliest days of autumn, and the lovely scenery of the lake country had begun to assume its most beautiful and picturesque coloring.
For in the early summer months the hues of the whole region are too generally green, without any variation except that produced by the effect of sunshine and shadow. The sides of the turf-covered mountains, the birch and oak coppices on their lower slopes, the deep meadows, at their base, are all overspread with the richest and most intense verdure; even the reflections in the bosom of the clear lakes preserve the same general tints, diversified only by the cerulean blue caught from the deep overhanging heavens, and the not dissimilar hue of the craggy summits of the loftier hilltops, where the slaty character of the rocks, partly impregnated with iron, partly incrusted with gray lichens, "overspread in many places," to quote the words of a fine writer and true lover of nature, "the steep and almost precipitous sides of the mountains, with an intermixture of colors like the compound hues of a dove's neck."
"When, in the heat of advancing summer," he proceeds thereafter, "the fresh green tint of the herbage has somewhat faded, it is again revived by the appearance of the fern profusely spread every where; and upon this plant, more than upon any thing else, do the changes, which the seasons make in the coloring of the mountains depend. About the first week in October, the rich green, which prevailed through the whole summer, has usually passed away. The brilliant and various colors of the fern are then in harmony with the autumnal woods; bright yellow, or lemon color, at the base of the mountains, melting gradually, through orange, to a dark russet brown toward the summits, where the plant, being more exposed to the weather, is in a more advanced state of decay. Neither heath nor furze are generally found upon the sides of the mountains, though in some places they are richly adorned by them. We may add, that the mountains are of height sufficient to have the surface toward the summits softened by distance, and to imbibe the finest aërial hues. In common also with other mountains, their apparent forms and colors are perpetually changed by the clouds and vapors which float round them; the effect indeed of mist or haze, in a country of this character, is like that of magic. I have seen six or seven ridges rising above each other, all created, in a moment, by the vapors upon the side of a mountain, which, in its ordinary appearance, showed not a projecting point to furnish even a hint for such an operation.
"I will take this opportunity of observing, that they who have studied the appearances of nature feel that the superiority, in point of visual interest, of mountainous over other countries, is more strikingly displayed in winter than in summer. This, as must be obvious, is partly owing to the forms of the mountains, which, of course, are not affected by the seasons, but also, in no small degree, to the greater variety that exists in their winter than their summer coloring. This variety is such, and so harmoniously preserved, that it leaves little cause of regret when the splendor of the season has passed away. The oak coppices, upon the sides of the mountains, retain russet leaves; the birch stands conspicuous with its silver stems and puce-colored twigs; the hollies, with green leaves and scarlet berries, have come forth into view from among the deciduous trees, whose summer foliage had concealed them; the ivy is now plentifully apparent upon the stems and boughs of the trees, and among the wooded rocks. In place of the uniform summer-green of the herbage and fern, many rich colors play into each other over the surface of the mountains; turf, the tints of which are interchangeably tawny-green, olive, and brown, beds of withered fern and gray rocks being harmoniously blended together. The mosses and lichens are never so flourishing as in winter, if it be not a season of frost; and their minute beauties prodigally adorn the foreground. Wherever we turn, we find these productions of nature, to which winter is rather favorable than unkindly, scattered over the walls, banks of earth, rocks and stones, and upon the trunks of trees, with the intermixture of several species of small fern, now green and fresh; and, to the observing passenger, their forms and colors are a source of inexhaustible admiration."—Wordsworth.
Thus far have I quoted the accurate and simple language of the great Poet of the Lakes, since, none other that I can choose would place before the eyes of my readers so vivid a reality of the scenery of that loveliest portion of picturesque England, in its finest aspect.
It was not, indeed, quite so deep in the season, that all the changes so beautifully depicted above had yet occurred, when, late in a clear autumnal evening, Kenric and Edith stood together in the porch of their new home, gazing across the tranquil bosom of the little mere, and down the pastoral valley of the Kent, yet the face of the picture was close to that described in the quotations. The trees, in the level ground and in the lower valleys, had not lost all their verdure, though the golden, the russet, and the ruddy-red, had intermingled largely with the green; the meadows, by the water-edge, had not changed a tint, a shade of their summer glory, but all the hill-sides were as they stand painted by the poet-pen of the child of Nature.
The sun was setting far away, to the right hand, as they gazed down the long dale to the southward, behind the mighty tops of Hawkshead and Blackcomb, which towered against the gorgeous golden-sky, flecked with a thousand glowing cloudlets, orange and rosy-red, and glaring crimson, like a huge perpendicular wall of dusky purple; with the long basin of Windermere, visible from that elevation over the lower intervening ridges, lying along their bases as it seemed, though in truth many miles distant, a sheet of beaten-gold. The lower hills, to the west of Kentmere, downward to Bowness, whose chapel-window gleamed like fire in the distance, were shrouded in soft purple haze, and threw long blue shadows across the rich vale, broken by the slant golden beams which streamed through the gaps in their summits, in far-reaching pencils of misty light. At the same time, the little lake of Kentmere lay at the feet of the spectators, still, clear, and transparent as an artificial mirror, giving back a counterfeit presentment of every thing around and above it, only less real than the actual reality; while toward the precipitous and craggy hills, behind them and on their left, the westering sun sent forth such floods of rosy and golden light as illuminated all their projections and cavities, bringing them, with all their accidents of crag or coppice, ivy-bush or silvery birch-tree, close to the eye of the beholder, blended with an intermixture of solemn shadows, seen distinctly through the clear atmosphere.
Over this scene the happy couple gazed with such feelings as none can gaze, but they who are good and happy. The sleepy hum of the good mother's wheel came drowsily through the open doorway; the distant laugh and cry of the hunter's boys, as they were clearing the kennels and feeding the hounds for the night, with an occasional bay or whimper of their impatient charges, rose pleasantly on the night air. Most of the natural sounds and sights had ceased; the songs of the birds were silent, for the nightingales visit not those valleys of the west; the bleat of the flocks was heard no more; the lowing of the herds had passed homeward; only a few late swallows skimmed the bosom of the mere, which a leaping trout would break, now and then, with a loud plash, into a silvery maze of circling dimples; and the jarring note of the nighthawk, as his swift wing glanced under the brown shadows of the oak, in chase of the great evening moths, was heard in the gloaming; and the pinions of the great golden-eagle hung like a shadow, leagues up in the burning sky.
Perfect contentment was the breathing spirit of the calm and gentle scene, with something of that heavenly peace which induced the friend of Izaak Walton to apostrophize the Sabbath, as