Mrs. Hemans
has described it as "a lovely cottage-like building, almost hidden by a
profusion of roses and ivy." Ambleside was a great centre for tourists
and others, being situated at the head of the fine Lake of Windermere,
to which its admirers were ambitious enough to apply Sir Walter Scott's
lines on Loch Katrine:
In all her length far winding lay
With promontory, creek, and bay,
And islands that impurpled bright
Floated amid the livelier light.
And mountains that like Giants stand
To sentinel enchanted land.
There was a Roman camp which we proposed visiting, and possibly
Helvellyn, but we were compelled for a time to seek refuge in one of the
hotels from the rain. There we met a gentleman, a resident in the
locality, who was what we might describe as a religious enthusiast, for
he had a very exalted opinion of the Vicar of Ambleside, whom he
described as a "Christian man"--a term obviously making distinctions
among vicars with which we heartily agreed. There must have been an
atmosphere of poetry in the Lake District affecting both visitors and
natives, for in a small valley, half a mile from a lonely chapel, stood
the only inn, bearing the strange sign of "The Mortal Man" on which some
native poet, but not Wordsworth, had written:
O Mortal Man, who liv'st on bread,
What is't that makes thy nose so red?--
Thou silly ass, that looks so pale.
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