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western passes show that sunset is near. He must hasten
down,- mindful of the opening between the fences, which he
remarked from below, and which, if he finds, he cannot lose
his way. He does not seriously lose his way, though crag and
bog make him diverge now and then. Descending between the
inclosures, he sits down once or twice, to relieve the
fatigue to the ancle (sic) and instep of so continuous a
descent, and to linger a little over the beauty of the
evening scene. As he comes down into the basin where Rydal
Beck makes its last gambols and leaps, before entering the
park, he is sensible of the approach of night. Loughrigg
seems to rise: the hills seem to close him in, and the
twilight to settle down. He comes to a gate, and finds
himself in the civilised world again. He descends the green
lane at the top of Rydal Mount, comes out just above
Wordsworth's gate, finds his car at the bottom of the hill,-
(the driver beginning to speculate on whether any accident
has befallen the gentleman on the hills,) is driven home,
and is amazed, on getting out, to find how stiff and tired
he is. He would not, however, but have spent such a day for
ten times the fatigue. He will certainly ascend Helvellyn,
and every other mountain that comes in his way.
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