Come on sir; here’s the place:—stand still.—How fearful
    And dizzy ’tis, to cast one’s eyes so low!
    The crows and choughs, that wing the midway air
    Show scarce so gross as beetles: Half way down
    Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade!
    Methinks he seems no bigger than his head:
    The fishermen, that walk upon the beach,
    Appear like mice; and yon tall anchoring bark,
    Diminish’d to her cock; her cock, a buoy
    Almost too small for sight: The murmuring surge
    That on th’ unnumbered idle pebbles chafes,
    Cannot be heard so high:—I’ll look no more;
    Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight
    Topple down headlong.

    King Lear.

“You must prepare yourself,” continued the old man, to be somewhat surprised with what I am going to relate to you, if you have not (as I have) lived long enough in the world not to be much surprised at any thing.  Things are so mixed up in this world, and very trifling, or even absurd events so often lead to very serious consequences, that I can quite believe the stories one hears of the spilling of a cup of tea creating a war between two nations, or the boring of a rat-hole causing the inundation of Holland.

“One very fine morning, at this period of my narrative, Gawen Braithwaite, a stout young man of rather more than my own age, the son of a neighbouring statesman, and myself, sallied forth on an excursion of a character not uncommon among the young men of that country in my early days, and probably still prevailing,—which combined the three great excitements to youth for any similar undertaking, viz. pleasure, danger, and sometimes profit.  This was, the gathering ruddle in the Screes of Wastdale.  This operation will require some explanation to make it p. 69intelligible to you.  Ruddle is a stone strongly mixed with iron, which, by wetting and rubbing, produces a deep red paint which hardly any exposure to the weather can wash away, especially when stained upon an oily substance like wool.  Now this ruddle the shepherds of the mountains use to mark their sheep with, that it may be known to whom they belong.  As the sheep range over a wide and unenclosed extent of moor and fell, they often ramble far from home, and though each shepherd well knows every one of his own sheep by face, yet strangers could not know to whom a stray animal belonged, unless it bore some mark to point out its owner.  Hence the occupier of every sheep-farm has his own peculiar mark, which has been used on that farm time out of mind, by which his sheep are known all over the country-side; and at sheep-shearings, which are always times of great festivity and rejoicing, the shepherds assemble from all parts of the country, and choose out their own stray sheep from each flock as it is shorn, appealing to their well-known marks as proofs of ownership.  These marks, as I said, are made by the mineral called ruddle, which, being very scarce, has a considerable value in the market, fetching as much as at least sixpence a pound.  Now sixpences are not very abundant in the pockets of country lads; and they are very glad to secure them, even though it be but by one at a time, at the expense of wasting many hours, which they value little, and at much risk of their necks, which they value less.  It happens that this ruddle is principally to be found in the most dangerous place in all the lake country—a place which you must have seen, for it is visited by all tourists who wish to explore by far the finest part of all that beautiful district—the Screes of Wast-water.  These Screes are a long and lofty ridge of almost perpendicular rocks, running from Scaw-fell towards the sea, along the whole southern side of the lake of Wastdale, and are of so brittle and crumbling a nature, that almost the smallest pebble, set rolling from above, will gather a host of them as it goes, till a whole army of little stones rush pell-mell to p. 70the bottom of the rock and plunge headlong into the dark lake below, at least fifty fathoms deep!  It is on the face and half way down the side of this shivery rock that the little veins of ruddle are to be found, and you may guess the steady step and firm nerve which are required to descend the surface of the steep and loose declivity, and avoid any disturbance of that rolling mass, which, once commencing its movements, would to a certainty hurl the bold adventurer to the bottom.  Many lives have been lost in this perilous pursuit.  However, Gawen Braithwaite and I were not deterred by the danger, but rather impelled by it to encounter a risk which we had often before tried and escaped.  Up Langdale, then, we sallied; and crossing Stye-Head, made our way to the left under the peaks of Scaw-fell Pikes, through the stormy gap of Mickle-door, and descended the face of the Screes with that boldness of heart and step, which is the best pledge of safety.  We were on this day more than usually successful in the object of our search; and before the sun had descended between the double peaks of the Isle of Man, had filled our bags with the treasure which we so highly prized, and sat down on the top of the Screes to eat our first meal since we left home, and watch at the same time the last rays of the sun tingeing the sea with gold, and the top of Great Gavel with a deep purple—his base being already lost in shadow.  In the gaiety of our hearts we ended our repast by smearing our faces with the ruddle: and, having added a few dark lines to the portrait by the aid of some bastard coal which is there found, we were quite prepared to startle to our hearts’ content any rustic maiden that might have the misfortune to encounter us on our way home—a feat not very uncommon in a country where amusements are not so easily found as in towns like this.  The lengthening shadows of the evening soon warned us of the approach of night; and we commenced our return with light hearts and heavy sacks of ruddle, keeping the high ground and the slopes of the hill-sides rather than descending into the valleys below, both because the ground p. 71was there more solid to the step, and because—the truth must be confessed—we thought we were less likely to meet with ghosts on the open plain, than in the dark lurking-places and shadowy recesses of the glens, which have been supposed, from time immemorial, their favourite habitations!  Yet, strange as it may appear, this very avoidance of ghostly haunts led us not only into their chosen dwelling places, but converted us into ghosts ourselves; as you shall hear.  Gawen Braithwaite was somewhat in advance of me as we crossed the bold point of the crag which runs out between the vale of Langdale and the dale that leads towards the foot of Hardknot, when he suddenly disappeared among some close bushes of hazel, which here fringe the rock from the river below almost to the crown of the hill.  Conceiving that he had stumbled under his weight among the hidden stones (for it was now almost dark even on the hill tops) I hastened forward to his relief, when, to my great surprise, I found that he had disappeared altogether from view.  I called aloud, and, receiving no answer, I became dreadfully alarmed, thinking that he, who, I soon recollected, had no right to poor Gawen, had flown off with him bodily!  At last I heard his voice from below feebly calling on me to help him, and then found that he had fallen into a deep and unsuspected cavern, and was unable to get out without my assistance.  I descended carefully to the place where he was lying, and found him not at all hurt; but he trembled exceedingly, and putting his hand to his mouth as a signal for my silence, he pointed to an object below, which put me at once into as great a fright as himself.  We could both see distinctly a faint glimmering of light, though far beneath us; and as we held our breaths from very terror, sometimes fancied we could hear the sound of human voices in the very bowels of the hills.  At last our doubts were changed into certainty; and gathering courage by the assurance that the sounds which we heard were not inhuman, our curiosity began to get the better of our fears, and we quietly worked our way downwards among the rocks and closely-woven bushes, till the p. 72light grew brighter, and the sounds fell more distinctly on our ears.  At last a sight burst upon us which astonished us both not a little.  Stepping quietly down upon a jutting projection of rock, we obtained the full view of a large cavern, evidently the old working of a slate-mine which had been long deserted, and the entrance to which (at the opposite end from where we stood) had been almost forgotten even by the natives.  The hills thereabouts ar............