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We know nothing wilder in the district than the next two
miles. These are the desolate hills in which the Duddon and
the Esk take their rise; and Cockley Beck is the spot where
the Duddon must be left, to cross over to the Esk. There is
a farmhouse near the bridge, where horses can be refreshed,
when a car comes this way, while travellers sit down by the
stream to dinner. A melancholy and harassed traveller once
came this way, whose adventure is still talked over in
Eskdale and Borrowdale. A party of tourists, among whom were
two sisters, were on the heights, intending to cross Esk
Hause into Borrowdale, and to spend the night at
Seathwaite,- the first settlement there. Now there is, as we
have seen, another Seathwaite on the Duddon; and mistakes
frequently arise between them. On Esk Hause, one of the
ladies lost sight of her party behind some of the rocks
scattered among the tarns there, and took a turn to the
right instead of the left. A shepherd of whom she inquired
her way to Seathwaite, pointed down to the Duddon valley;
and that way she went till she found herself at Cockley
Beck, when the old shepherd farmer who lived there was
getting his supper in the dusk of the autumn evening. He
used his best courtesy to induce her to stay till daylight:
but she was bent on going at once,- so great would be her
sister's terror. As she would not be persuaded, the old man
went with her, putting his crust into his pocket. It was
dark, and the lady was weary; and she was not aware what she
was undertaking. After a long struggle, she fainted. The old
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