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[ma]jestically rude, and near it, Shuttenoer, a spiral rock not 
less in height, hanging more forward over its base. Betwixt 
these, an awful chasm is formed, through which the waters of 
Watanlath are hurled. This is the Niagara of the lake, the 
renowned cataract of Lowdore [1]. To see this, ascend to an 
opening in the grove, directly over the mill. It is the 
misfortune of this celebrated water-fall to fail entirely in a 
dry season. The wonderful scenes, peculiar to this part, continue 
to the gorge of Borrowdale [2], and higher; and Castle-crag may 
be seen, in the centre of the amphitheatre, threatening to block 
up the pass it once defended. The village of Grange is under it, 
celebrated as well for its hospitality to Mr. Gray, as for its 
sweet romantic site. And to affirm that all that Mr. Gray says of 
the young farmer at Grange, is strictly applicable to the 
inhabitants of these mountainous regions in general, is but 
common justice done to the memory of repeated favours. 
  
 
- Hail sacred flood!  
May still thy hospitable swains be blest  
In rural innocence; thy mountains still  
Teem with the fleecy race; thy tuneful woods  
For ever flourish: and thy vales look gay.  
Armstrong on Health.  
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