How comes thy nose to be so red?
Thou silly ass, that look’st so pale,
It comes of Sally Birkett’s ale.”
The “Traveller’s Rest,” at the top of the Kirkstone Pass (1476 feet), has in its time been the scene of many a foxhunting “harvel” or celebration. An old entry in the visitors’ book ran thus—
“The Sunday traveller on the Kirkstone Pass,
Is bonâ fide and may have his glass:
So, gentle stranger, do not stop to think;
Open your mouth, throw back your head and drink!
“And while reposing ’neath the bleak fell-sides,
As down your throat the nimble liquor glides,