So I borrowed the
waiter's umbrella, when he said it would rain, and off we went in an
open carriage, a drive of seven miles, up hill and down dale, among
mountains and around ponds (lakes _they_ called them), in the midst of
rich lands and pretty mansions, with occasionally a castle, and once a
ruin, to diversify the scenery.
"Arrived at Coniston Hotel, the waiter said the same thing: 'It's too
cloudy to ascend the "Old Man;"' but as soon as it was found that if it
was too cloudy we did not intend to stay, it cleared off amazingly fast,
and the ponies were ordered. I thought at first of walking up, but,
having a value for my feet and not liking to misuse them, I mounted a
pony and walked him.
"He was beautifully stupid, but I could not help thinking of Henry
Colman, the agriculturist, who, when in England, went on a fox-hunt. He
said, 'Think of my poor wife's old husband leaping a fence!'
"But I soon forgot any fear, for the pony needed nothing from me or the
guide, but scrambled about any way he chose; and the scenery was
charming, for although the mountains are not very high, they are thrown
together very beautifully and remind me of those of the Hudson
Highlands. Then the little lakes were lovely, and occasionally we came
to a tarn or pond, and exceedingly small waterfalls were rushing about
everywhere, without any apparent object in view, but evidently looking
for something.
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