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it received its name of Brotherwater from the like
circumstance happening once before. There are several more
waters, about the size of this, upon the mountains of
Patterdale, as Angle Tarn, Red Tarn, Hays Water,
Keppel-Cove Tarn, Grisdale Tarn, all remarkably well
stocked with fish. From a tree in the meadow below
Broadwater, called Hartsop-high-field, is a view I
very much admire; you have the best view of the road,
&c. to a large quarry, from which the blue slate is
brought down to the foot of the mountain, not by horses, but
men: a man will carry eight hundred weight at a time, and go
faster with it than without it; trials of that kind having
been often made: The slate is laid upon a barrow, which is
called a Trail Barrow; it hath two inclining handles,
or stangs; between which the man is placed, going, like a
horse, before the weight, and has nothing more to do than
keep it in the tract, and prevent it from running too fast:
those who are dexterous will not sometimes set foot on the
ground for ten or twelve yards together: but the barrow will
often run away with an unskilful person, which was my case
when I made an attempt. The length that it is so carried is
here about half a mile; the ascent so steep, that to many
persons it is easier than the descent.
The road from hence to Ulswater is pleasant and easy,
through level meadows, adjoining to hanging woods and lofty
mountains, down which are many tumbling waters; the winds
drive the sound sometimes full upon the ear, at other times
it is scarcely heard, unless re-echoed from the other side
of you: you see one part of the mountain in a dark shade,
another in the brightest colour the sun's oblique beams can
give, and where snowy flocks in full view spot the verdure
like pictures upon a wall. We now arrive at Ulswater, from
whence we proceed to Penrith, through the tracts we amply
described before.
I have now given the best account I am able of these
unfrequented tracts; in such places only are we to look for
any remains of our primitive state; and we find almost every
where plain indications of that spirit of enterprize and war
for which our ancestors were so famous. The ruined tower,
the subterraneous dungeon, the gloomy castle, are so many
monuments of the feudal system, and those days when no man
could sleep in any other security than what his valour and
strength procured him. Of earlier ages we have many
vestiges; roads, ruined forts, and inscriptions, point out
the progress of the Roman power, whilst cairns, and other
sepulchral monuments, mark the ground on where the British
chiefs lay interred, and the circle of enormous stones
points out the residence of the original Britons. Every
forest is the subject of tradition: the brave actions of a
few outlaws who lived upon the deer which then abounded, are
in every old woman's mouth; and these stories, as we have
seen, are often corroborated by undoubted facts.
To collect these, and to describe the various scenes of
picturesque beauty, which are so plentifully scattered
through this country, has been my endeavour. I was in hopes
my abilities were equal to the task, but I found the labour
so excessively great, that it was almost too much for one
man to perform. Honest, plain narrative is all I can boast.
I have neither attempted to please my readers by laboured
descriptions of beauties which do not exist, nor have I
endeavoured to veil my own ignorance behind a cloud of
general epithets, which may apply to the description of one
place as well as another. If some things are introduced
which may seem ludicrous, I hope my readers will pardon me,
when they reflect it was not my design to instruct
only, but to entertain. If I have been so fortunate
as to do both, I may say with Horace, - Omne tulit
punctum qui miscuit utile dulci.
END OF BOOK FIFTH.
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