polished, scholarly man of the world.

We passed one most delightful day in a visit to Langdale,--the scene
of "The Excursion,"--and to Dungeon-Ghyll Force. I am finishing my
letter at Carlisle on my way to Scotland, and will give a slight
sketch of that excursion, and one which occupied another day, from
Keswick to Buttermere and Crummock Water, in my next.

LETTER III.

WESTMORELAND.--LANGDALE.--DUNGEON-GHYLL FORCE.--KESWICK.--CARLISLE.--
BRANXHOLM.--SCOTT.--BURNS.

Edinburgh, 20th September, 1846.

I have too long delayed writing up my journal.--Many interesting
observations slip from recollection if one waits so many days:
yet, while travelling, it is almost impossible to find an hour when
something of value to be seen will not be lost while writing.

I said, in closing my last, that I would write a little more about
Westmoreland; but so much, has happened since, that I must now dismiss
that region with all possible brevity.

The first day of which I wished to speak was passed in visiting
Langdale, the scene of Wordsworth's "Excursion." Our party of eight
went in two of the vehicles called cars or droskas,--open carriages,
each drawn by one horse. They are rather fatiguing to ride in, but
good to see from. In steep and stony places all alight, and the driver
leads the horse: so many of these there are, that we were four or
five hours in going ten miles, including the pauses when we wished to
_look_.

The scenes through which we passed are, indeed, of the most wild and
noble character. The wildness is not savage, but very calm. Without
recurring to details, I recognized the tone and atmosphere of that
noble poem, which was to me, at a feverish period in my life, as pure
waters, free breezes, and cold blue sky, bringing a sense of eternity
that gave an aspect of composure to the rudest volcanic wrecks of
time.

We dined at a farm-house of the vale, with its stone floors, old
carved cabinet (the pride of a house of this sort), and ready
provision of oaten cakes. We then ascended a near hill to the
waterfall called Dungeon-Ghyll Force, also a subject touched by
Wordsworth's Muse. You wind along a path for a long time, hearing the
sound of the falling water, but do not see it till, descending by a
ladder the side of the ravine, you come to its very foot. You find
yourself then in a deep chasm, bridged over by a narrow arch of rock;
the water falls at the farther end in a narrow column. Looking up, yo