File:Chapters at the English lakes (1913) (14778717601).jpg

Identifier: chaptersatenglis1913rawn (find matches)
Title: Chapters at the English lakes
Year: 1913 (1910s)
Authors: Rawnsley, H. D. (Hardwicke Drummond), 1851-1920
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Publisher: Glasgow, James MacLehose and Sons
Contributing Library: University of Connecticut Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: Boston Library Consortium Member Libraries

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ith a sense of something far moredeeply interfused with an evenings rest thanmere tea and talk and strawberries and fairy hghtscould give us; went home with the love of Godand love of man a great reality. IX Between Moonlight and Dawn—Skating on Derwentwater Nothing could have been more magical than theafterglow last Sunday evening upon Skiddaw andHelvellyn, and ere the rose-red faded fromtheir snow-clad heights there swam up into sightbetween Latrigg and Wanthwaite the moon, alittle past its full, shining like a great oval jewelin a cup of liquid amethyst—that eastern cup ofwinter sky from which we folk in the Keswickvalley on these clear evenings drink our full ofwonder and surprise. Within half an hour of moonrise, Orion stoodup huge in the south-western sky, Syrius sparkledabove Walla Crag, and the Plough was clearabove Old Skiddaws cone. The stillness of aSabbath possessed the vale, until from wood towood the owls hooted cheerily, and dogs answeredeach other at distant farms.
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SKATING ON DERWENT WATER 201 I had heard in the late afternoon the tremulousmetaUic murmur of skaters at the lands; these,too, were hushed. The sound of organ andhymn came faintly from the old church of St.Kentigern, then the patter of many feet along theroad for home, and deeper silence fell on hill anddale. I knew that to-morrow, if the wind kept in theeast, the ice on Derwentwater would be in primecondition, and having much work to do, I alsoknew that there would be no skating for me unlessrising betimes I could go off by star and moon-light to the lake. At five-thirty I was astir.Great silver clouds built up the heights of noblermountains in the south, but westward the moonshone in a cloudless sky. Leaving the quiethouse and passing through the sleeping hamletand through the httle town, which, but for Hghtin three windows and in the pencil factory, wasstill asleep, I made my way to the lands, and asthe clock struck six—the only living thing in thatstrange landscape—I shod myse

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