For those whose ideas of exercise lie in a milder direction, the walk up Great Gable or Scawfell Pike, the highest English mountain, will suggest itself. The views from these summits are magnificent in every direction and embrace the wild fastnesses of the Pillar, the silvery light over the sea, where the Isle of Man glimmers in the [Illustration: An ascent of The Needle Rock, Great Gable] [Illustration: Furness Abbey General View showing the entrance to the Chapter House and the Cloisters.] distance, the soft beauties of Windermere, Derwentwater and Skiddaw, with Wastwater, “abode of gloom and congregated storms,” in the valley at our feet. Auld Will used to do a bit of guiding when business was slack at the inn, and one day he accompanied a parson up Scawfell Pike. The fell side was stony and the going so rough that this gentleman was led to indulge in language that quite disgusted Auld Will, who had always a great respect for “the cloth.” He said nothing in reproof, however, until he had seated his charge safely on the top of Scawfell Pike, when he stood back, mopped his brow and delivered himself to the parson as follows: “Theer, me man, thoo can mak t’maist o’ that, for it’s as near Heaven as thoo’ll ivver get!” No description of Lakeland could pretend to completeness without some reference, however brief, to the monastic ruins of Furness Abbey. From Wastwater to Seascale Station is twelve miles by road and thence the Furness Railway takes one in a very short time to the secluded Vale of Beckans Ghyll--a fitting retreat for an edifice which had for its chief object complete withdrawal from every-day life. This charm of aloofness and sequestration still hovers around the spot where the Abbots of Furness centuries ago, for the Abbey was founded by Stephen, in 1127, eschewed all dealings with “the world, the flesh and the devil.” It ranks second to Fountain’s Abbey in opulence and extent, but if we add beauty of detail, the ruins of Furness are equal to any in Great Britain. It was originally a filiation from the monastery of Savigny, in Normandy, which belonged to the order of Benedictines, but before many years had passed, the brethren entered the Cistercian order, changing grey for white habiliments. The chief abbot was endowed with great civil, as well as ecclesiastical influence. In his criminal courts, the power of life and death was his; he had control of the militia; every mesne lord was bound to contribute his quota of armed men at the Abbot’s summons, and, save to the King, he was answerable to no man.