Keswick.—Account of her journey through Yorkshire and Westmorland.
——————————
Transcript
Keswick. April 20th 1820
My dear Papa
You were kind enough to wish me to write home when I had passed the Craven of Yorkshire and reached the Lakes, and though we have accomplished this sooner than I expected, yet I do not like to delay writing because of the pleasure it gives me, and because I have now a great deal to tell you. Wakefield, whence I last wrote, proved by day-light a very nasty town, though it stands by a beautiful river, the Calder, and is surrounded by more varied country than any we had then seen; but the country all round is spoiled by the coal mines which spread blackness and desolation all about them. The road is black, and great barrows of coals are all along to Bradford. All the houses in the villages are built of stone which has a cold and comfortless appearance and the poor children are so begrimed with coal-dust that they look quite wretched. Bradford lies in a valley crowded with manufactories and coal mines and iron-works, from the tall blackened chimneys of which clouds of black smoke and white steam pour, and almost hide the poor suffocated town below. Some miles before reaching Skipton, the next stage, the character of the scenery quite changes and assumes the wild, rocky features of the Craven. We saw Lord Thanet’s castle at Skipton. It is neither handsome or very old or curious. It was built in the year 1629, and has all the faults of architecture at that period. Here we left the direct road in order to visit Malham Cove and Gordale’s Scaur, and I am very glad we did so, for the first is one of the most curious, and the latter the very grandest sight I ever beheld. The Cove is a kind of chalky amphitheatre in the grey stone rocks, from the base of which a little stream issues and winds along the valley through the village. The rock rises perpendicularly and almost unbroken to a great height, and I thought it the most awful† thing I had ever seen till I went to Gordale’s Scaur. This is a narrow ravine between overhanging rocks of immense height, from which a stream of water issues under a natural arch in the mountain, and, after making three distinct leaps, it dashes into the valley below, here quite choked by huge pieces of fallen rock, which throw up the water in foam and smoke to a great height. The rocks are so high, and the cleft so narrow, that without looking quite back the sun cannot be seen. It is a most aweful situation—enclosed in the dark jaws of such a ravine of dark rock, only varied by the deep green yew trees which take root in the rifts of the mountain. I could not witness so grand a scene {1} without feelings almost of terror, though I am sure I was not afraid of anything there. We reached Settle at night after a very hilly ride through country which became more grand as we advanced farther. The town is beautifully situated under high green hills, one of which suddenly starts into an abrupt slaty rock and almost overhangs the town. At about ¾ of a mile from Settle, close by the road side we stopped to see the ebbing and flowing well at Gigleswick—the water rose and fell just ten inches in less than as many minutes. We soon saw Ingleburgh high above the other mountains, with its outlines all obscured by the mists and clouds floating round its head. All the way to Ingleton and Kirby Lonsdale the scenery though varying at every turn of the road and with every gleam of sun and passing cloud, is much of the same character. But Winandermere and Grassmere and Keswick which I have just seen by moon light are grand indeed. I am obliged to break off as the post will close in 5 minutes. {2} Say all all that is affectionate for me to all at home
and believe me ever | your very dutiful daughter
Eliz. Turner
[Superscription:] Dawson Turner Esqre | Gt. Yarmouth—Norfolk
[Postmark:] KESWICK | 298
[Postal fee:] 1/1
——————————
There is a thumbnail sketch of a sheep, curled up, on a blank part of the sheet.
{1} This is probably the spelling intended, but the word contains a superfluous letter.
{2} The writing is more hurried towards the end of the letter, which finishes half-way down the third page of the sheet.