This wondrous feat being duly accomplished, for your future exaltation, retrace your steps as far as the Shepherds' Bridge, and then, holding to the right, you soon pass through a gate, and come out upon a somewhat stony road winding along between the beck and the foot of Raven Crag, which rises on your right, steep and rugged, to form its multi-peaked crown. That precipitous peak (or pike) immediately above you, was the scene of an event remarkable in the annals of mountain fox-hunting. A poor fox, after an unusually long chase, reached the summit of Raven Crag, closely pursued by only three hounds, the rest of the pack being distanced long before; as a last chance for life, he made directly for the edge of that precipice, purposing, doubtless, to swerve when close to the verge, and thus rid himself of his pursuers by throwing them over: this sagacious expedient was, however, unsuccessful, for, when he reached the edge, his three foes were too near to admit of his effecting the saving turn, and all four were projected from the brow of the cliff, and dashed, out of all semblance of _caninity_ and _vulpinity_, on the stones not far above your present position. CHAPTER III. WEATHERLAM—TILBERTHWAITE—THE BRATHAY—WORDSWORTH'S BRIDGES—HALLGARTH—LITTLE LANGDALE, ITS TARN, &C.—WHITEWASH, PRO AND CON—THE BUSK AND FELL-FOOT—“JOAN’S ALE WAS NEW”—ANCIENT TUMULUS—ASCENT OF WRYNOSE—THE SHIRE STONES—SOURCE OF THE DUDDON—WORDSWORTH'S SONNETS THEREON—AUTHOR’S DITTO DITTO—TRADITIONAL SAYINGS ABOUT OLD WOODS—THEIR EXTENT DISPUTED. As you wind round the heel of Raven Crag, you obtain a fine view of the Old Man’s stupendous brother, Weatherlam, rearing his massive summit over the circumjacent hills, like a giant amid ordinary mortals. You follow a narrow winding road through the verdant fields and copse-clad hillocks of Holme ground, and soon find yourself in the vale of Tilberthwaite; and “O,” you suspirate, as you roll your eyes around, “what a spot for a honeymoon—'the world forgetting, by the world forgot'—so lovely in its seclusion and so lonely in its loveliness.” The only unpleasant characteristic of Tilberthwaite is an odd, uncomfortable feeling of which, though absurd enough, you cannot entirely divest yourself—an idea of difficulty in getting out of it. It is so encompassed by steep hills and hanging woods, that you involuntarily compare yourself to a cockroach in the bottom of a porridge basin. The name of Tilberthwaite is said to be compounded of Tillbear and thwaite, and to signify an enclosure for the cultivation of bear (pronounced beer), an old name for barley. This word, like many more that are obsolete in England, is still used in Scotland; for instance, it occurs in Tam O'Shanter, where it is said that Cutty Sark— “Shook baith muckle corn and _bear_, And held the kintra side in fear.” [Sidenote: RIVER AND BRIDGE.] And again, an old song commences—