gentle rise in the midst of the Mountains, which at that time darkened all around, except at the fresh opening of the Vale of St. John. We went to bed rather fatigued, but not so much so as to hinder us getting up this morning to mount Skiddaw. It promised all along to be fair, and we had fagged and tugged nearly to the top, when, at half-past six, there came a Mist upon us and shut out the view. We did not, however, lose anything by it: we were high enough without mist to see the coast of Scotland--the Irish Sea--the hills beyond Lancaster--and nearly all the large ones of Cumberland and Westmoreland, particularly Helvellyn and Scawfell. It grew colder and colder as we ascended, and we were glad, at about three parts of the way, to taste a little rum which the Guide brought with him, mixed, mind ye, with Mountain water. I took two glasses going and one returning. It is about six miles from where I am writing to the top--So we have walked ten miles before Breakfast to-day. We went up with two others, very good sort of fellows--All felt, on arising into the cold air, that same elevation which a cold bath gives one--I felt as if I were going to a Tournament. Wordsworth's house is situated just on the rise of the foot of Mount Rydal; his parlour-window looks directly down Windermere; I do not think I told you how fine the Vale of Grasmere is, and how I discovered "the ancient woman seated on Helm Crag"[70]--We shall proceed immediately to Carlisle, intending to enter Scotland on the 1st of July via-- [Carlisle,] July 1st.