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the early part of it is steep and slow. The turn is to the
right, at about a mile from Scale Hill, leaving the
Cockermouth road, which traverses the vale of Lorton. The
higher he ascends, the more lovely are the views over that
vale that the traveller obtains, till at length the Solway
gleams in the sun, and the Scotch mountains appear beyond.
If he has good eyes, the driver will point out to him, at a
vast distance, the famous old Lorton yew, appearing like a
dark clump, beside a white farmhouse. When fairly under
Whinlatter, six or seven miles from Scale Hill, he cannot
but admire,- in one or the other sense of the word,- the
colouring of the hill itself if the time be anywhere from
June to September. The gaudy hues of the mingled gorse and
heather are, at that season, unlike any exhibition of colour
we have seen elsewhere,- exceeding even the far-famed
American forest. As the north-western vision vanishes, the
south-eastern opens; and the vale of Keswick, with Skiddaw
in its noblest aspect, and the lakes far below, looks finer
than ever. After passing through Braithwaite, he soon
recognises the road, and returns to Keswick by the
well-known bridge over the Derwent.
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