Yet meyne, man or burd sal aye share.
* * * * *
O whoar is thy sweetheart, reed Robin?
Gae bring her frae hoosetop or tree:
I'll bid her be true to sweet Robin,
For fause was a fav'rite to me.
You'll share iv'ry crumb i' mey cabin,
We'll sing the weyld winter away--
I winna deceive ye, puir burdies!
Let mortals use me as they may.
On leaving our shelter, we passed a large mill, apparently deserted, and
soon afterwards reached Newby Bridge, where we crossed the River Leven,
which was rapidly conveying the surplus water from Windermere towards
the sea. Near this was a large hotel, built to accommodate stage-coach
traffic, but rendered unnecessary since the railway had been cut, and
consequently now untenanted. We had already crossed the bridge at the
head of Lake Windermere, and now had reached the bridge at the other
end. An old book, published in 1821, gave us the following interesting
information about the lake:
It was at one time thought to be unfathomable, but on the third and
fourth of June, 1772, when the water was six feet below its greatest
known height, and three feet above the lowest ebb, a trial was made
to ascertain by soundings the depth and form of the lake.
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