The parish of St. Bees, is very extensive, and includes some picturesque mountain scenery, among which may be enumerated the views from those peculiarly named hills Hard-knot, Wry-nose, and Scafell. The highest point of this range, Scafell, is three thousand one hundred and sixty feet above the level of the sea, at this height very little vegetation is met with; huge masses of stone piled one upon the other, in alternations of different strata, give to the whole a ridged or furrowed appearance of a singular character. The visitors to "the Lakes" may here gratify their taste for the romantic by visiting the beautiful valley of Buttermere, situated about midway between St. Bees and Keswick. This lake or mere, so widely known and so highly praised, is about a mile and a quarter in length, and nearly half a mile in breadth; it is connected by a little stream with Crummock lake, which has three or four small islands, but these are placed too near the shore to add much to its beauty. The best general views of the lake are from the Hause, a rocky point on the eastern side, and from the road between Scale-hill and Lowes-water. Both lakes are well stocked with trout and char. Scale Force, near Buttermere, has a fall of more than one hundred and fifty feet, and is very nearly perpendicular, besides uniting its waters with a small fall below: it is said to be the deepest in the lake district. The water is precipitated into a tremendous chasm between two mural rocks of sienite, beautifully overhung with trees, which have their roots in the crevices, and the sides are clad with a profusion of plants which glitter in the spray of the fall. At Buttermere is situated the Sour Milk Gill, a waterfall so termed from the frothy whiteness of its surface, which has been supposed to resemble butter-milk fresh from the churn. The temptation to indulge in reminiscences of the innumerable views of interest with which this vicinity abounds, has led us to ramble far from the description of the promontory which forms our subject; but this is less to be regretted as it has afforded us an opportunity of calling the reader's attention to a country that yields to none in the United Kingdom in point of natural beauties, and which is every succeeding year becoming a more fashionable resort. [Illustration: SCENE AT FLEETWOOD, ON WYRE] FLEETWOOD-ON-WYRE, LANCASHIRE. "The day shall come when FLEETWOOD's port shall be The favour'd Harbour of the great and free; Hither, when vex'd with boist'rous wave and wind, The struggling mast a safe retreat shall find; Here, from the sunny land of conch and pearl, The stately bark her weary sail shall furl." _Fleetwood: A Poem._