"For salmon me excels; and for this name of Lun, That I am christened by the Britons it begun, Which fulness doth import of waters still increase To Neptune bowting low, when christal Lune doth cease; And Conder coming in conducts her by the hand, Till lastly she salutes the Point of Sunderland, And leaves our dainty Lune to Amphitrite's care. * * * * * Then hey, they cry, for Lune, and hey for Lancashire, That one high hill was heard to tell it to his brother." There are streams which find their way, sometimes through devious and uncertain channels, into Morecambe Bay, but they are little known even to the inquisitive angler, who is always in search of new waters. The local sportsmen in their wisdom periodically look for the run of silver sea-trout, and keep their secret. The line of the bay from its north-eastern corner, where the Kent comes in, and round to Walney Island, is in the most literal sense irregular, for its indentations and river tributaries are continuous. It forms the intake of what Windermere and Coniston water send down to the sea, and it is, moreover, the watery foreground from which the world-famed scenery of Westmorland and Cumberland may be finely viewed. At Carnforth and Silverdale the outlook in this direction is unrivalled; Fairfield, Helvellyn, and Red Screes loom in the clouds or stand clear against the sky afar, and along the shores of the Bay are nestling towns and villages, wooded knolls and slopes, cottages, farms, and, always behind them, that wonderful amphitheatre, tier upon tier, of mountain. [Illustration: THE LIZA AT GILLERTHWAITE.] [Illustration: THE LIZA FLOWING INTO ENNERDALE WATER (_p. 297_).] In pre-railway days the journey from Lancaster to Ulverston was something of an adventure, always exciting, not only on account of the scenery brought under review, but because of the absolute danger of the shifting channels that had to be crossed. The coach was invariably joined at Hestbank (a cliff about three miles from the county town) by guides, whose duty it was to be up to date with the last man[oe]uvres of the quicksands, and to be ready with safe crossing places. These guides were an old institution, and were originally appointed and paid as retainers by the Prior of Cartmel. When the downfall came, and there was no longer an abbey treasure-chest to fall back upon, the Duchy of Lancaster paid the wages. It used to be said that few of those who got their living by "following the sands" died in their beds. Nevertheless, the calling of guide was kept in the same family for generations. The danger of this passage of the sands was long ago put into a distich-- "The Kent and the Keer Have parted many a good man and his mear."