I T may be fearlessly asserted that those portions of the counties of Cumberland, Westmoreland and Lancashire known as the Lake District, contain more natural beauty, more literary associations and more diversity of charm than any other similar area of the whole of the Earth’s surface. Within the small space of thirty square miles, scenes of the wildest grandeur and the most tranquil beauty exist side by side. From the grim recesses of Scawfell and Great Gable one can pass in two or three hours

W INDERMERE recalls the name of one who made it peculiarly his own—that genial-hearted philosopher, Christopher North (Professor Wilson), who has left on record that “the best time to visit it is from January 1st to December 31st.” A true lover of our largest lake, he also said that “it has the widest breadth of water, the richest foreground of wood, and the most magnificent background of mountains, not only in Westmoreland, but, believe us, in the whole world.” Although perhaps some of us may c

G RASMERE has been called the heart of the Lake District, and not without good reason. As a centre for driving or walking it is ideal, for it is situated within an easy day’s march of nearly all the lakes. The summits of most of the higher mountains can be attained and Grasmere again be reached by nightfall. In itself the vale of Grasmere, a happy mixture of beauty and domesticity, with its pretty little lake and surrounding mountains dotted here and there with farmsteads, cottages and villas, h

T HE main road running North from Grasmere to Thirlmere, over Dunmail Raise, rises to a height of eight hundred and fifty feet. On a hot summer’s day it is a long sultry grind, whether one be walking or driving in a char-a-banc, for the two things are much the same here. About half-a-mile out of Grasmere the coachman pulls up his horses and intimates that if any of the gentlemen would like to walk, the horses would not object. This procedure led a humorous American gentleman, who had paid the us

T HE Buttermere Round (as the famous drive through Borrowdale, over Honister Pass to Buttermere, and back by the Vale of Newlands, is called) will always be an out-standing feature of a Lakeland holiday. The rapid changes in the character of the scenery are so dramatic, the various types of beauty seen are all so distinctive and so perfect in their own way, and the drive itself is so full of incident, not to say excitement, that this could not well be otherwise. Our char-a-banc leaves Keswick at

U LLSWATER is at once the finest and the tamest of all the lakes. This seeming paradox is explained when one realizes that it is formed of three distinct reaches, all of which are hidden from the others. The lowest reach stretches out in a thin wedge of water to the confines of the mountains at Pooley Bridge; the higher fells are away at the other end. In its length of nine miles the lake stretches further and further into the recesses of the hills, until, at its head or upper reach, it nestles

“T HIS,” said John Ruskin, speaking of the Vale of Yewdale, “is the most beautiful valley in England.” And it is by Yewdale that Coniston is usually approached. Wherefore let all pay a visit to Coniston, if only for the sake of passing down that charming vale. The drive from Ambleside along the banks of the Brathay, across Skelwith Bridge and thence over Oxenfell to Yewdale and down to Coniston, is typical of many of the day excursions in Lakeland—the changing scenes of beauty en route are so en