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The road passing through the woods of Wythop, which are too
thick and umbrageous, though affording here and there
partial views of the lake and Skiddaw, we should recommend
going round the foot of the lake, and passing by its eastern
side to Keswick. The tourist must ascend the road as it
rises up the hill, leading towards Ireby, and when
immediately above the Haws village, he will have the whole
vale below on the right hand, a scene of rich cultivation
waving with the golden harvest, the lake stretching along,
gleaming and flashing under the dark woods of Wythop;
houses, hamlets, woods, and the far-spreading landscape,
fading away in the blue mountains heaped together about the
head of Derwent Water. This is a view for beauty, grandeur,
and magnificence, which has not its superior. From the same
point, looking westward, a different prospect is beheld, one
almost entirely rural - the vale of Embleton divided from
the vale of Derwent, and each swelling out into eminences
scarcely aspiring to be hills, and adorned with joyful
crops, laughing under the ripening beams of a glowing sun.
The descent is rapid down to the Haws, a village watered by
a stream called White Water Dash, and issuing from the north
side of Skiddaw. The bridge is uncommonly pictu-
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