Carrying the eye round to the west, a picture scarcely less beautiful meets the gaze. The low-lying plain on the right—the Wyke,[16] as it is called—has, within living memory, been reclaimed from the hungry sea; and where was once old ocean’s bed there are now lush pastures, and fields of waving grain that give promise of an abundant harvest. Below us, peeping up from a clump of trees, are seen the ruined walls of Wraysholme Tower, where the lordly Harringtons held sway, and with which we shall make more intimate acquaintance by-and-by; and near thereto Humphrey Head, looking like a monster couchant, thrusts its huge form far out from the shore. The little village beyond is Flookborough, and within half a mile is Cark, contiguous to which, half hidden among the umbraged woods, is Holker, the favourite seat of the Duke of Devonshire. Across the Leven sands we get a glimpse of Chapel Island, a little sea-girt solitude, with the crumbling ruins of its ancient sanctuary peeping through the gloom of the overshadowing trees, where, in days of yore, the monks of Furness “their orisons and vespers sung,” and offered prayers “for the safety of the souls of such as crossed the sands with the morning tide.” Almost within bow-shot are the rich woods and glades of Conishead; and further on, the old town of Ulverston can be discerned, with the great rounded hill—the Hoad—in the rear, on which the monument to the memory of its distinguished son, the late Sir John Barrow, stands— On the gusty down, Far seen across the sea-paths which he loved, A beacon to the steersman. [Note 16: “Wyke” signifies a bay with a low shore; and the now fertile plain, which includes some hundreds of acres, protected with deep embankments and valve gates for the land streams, was reclaimed many years ago through the enterprise of Mr. Towers, of Dudden Grove, and the late Mr. Stockdale, of Cark.]