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[how]ever, easy and agreeable enough. The road skirts the
western bank. The crags which are sprinkled or heaped about
the head of the lake are very fine. They jut out from the
mountain side, or stand alone on the green slopes, or
collect into miniature mountain clusters, which shelter tiny
dells, whence the sheep send forth their bleat. There is a
white house conspicuous at the head of the lake which is not
the inn, however the tired traveller may wish it were. The
inn at Mardale Green is a full mile from the water; and
sweet is the passage to it, if the walker be not too weary.
The path winds through the levels, round the bases of the
knolls, past the ruins of the old church, and among snug
little farms, while, at one end of the dale is the lake, and
the other is closed in by the passes to Kentmere and
Sleddale; and the great Pikes tower on either hand. The
stream which gushes here and pauses there, as it passes
among rough stones or through a green meadow, comes down
from Small Water, reinforced by a brook from Blea Water on
High Street, which joins the other a little above Mardale.
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The hostess at Mardale Green Inn will make her guests
comfortable with homely food and a clean bed: and the host
will, if necessary, act as guide up the passes. The small
green level which from the mountains looks such a mere
speck, is of some importance at a distance. It actually
sends 3,000 pounds of butter weekly to Manchester by the
railway. The carrier's waggon picks up the baskets from the
scattered dwellings in the dale, and transmits no less than
thirty cwts. per week to the Manchester folk.
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