degree, to the greater
variety that exists in their winter than their summer _colouring_. This
variety is such, and so harmoniously preserved, that it leaves little
cause of regret when the splendour of autumn is passed away. The
oak-coppices, upon the sides of the mountains, retain russet leaves; the
birch stands conspicuous with its silver stem and puce-coloured twigs;
the hollies, with green leaves and scarlet berries, have come forth to
view from among the deciduous trees, whose summer foliage had concealed
them; the ivy is now plentifully apparent upon the stems and boughs of
the trees, and upon the steep rocks. In place of the deep summer-green
of the herbage and fern, many rich colours play into each other over the
surface of the mountains; turf (the tints of which are interchangeably
tawny-green, olive, and brown), beds of withered fern, and grey rocks,
being harmoniously blended together. The mosses and lichens are never so
fresh and flourishing as in winter, if it be not a season of frost; and
their minute beauties prodigally adorn the foreground. Wherever we turn,
we find these productions of Nature, to which winter is rather
favourable than unkindly, scattered over the walls, banks of earth,
rocks, and stones, and upon the trunks of trees, with the intermixture
of several species of small fern, now green and fresh; and, to the
observing passenger, their forms and colours are a source of
inexhaustable admiration. Add to this the hoar-frost and snow, with all
the varieties they create, and which volumes would not be sufficient to
describe. I will content myself with one instance of the colouring
produced by snow, which may not be uninteresting to painters. It is
extracted from the memorandum-book of a friend; and for its accuracy I
can speak, having been an eye-witness of the appearance. 'I observed,'
says he, 'the beautiful effect of the drifted snow upon the mountains,
and the perfect _tone_ of colour. From the top of the mountains
downwards a rich olive was produced by the powdery snow and the grass,
which olive was warmed with a little brown, and in this way harmoniously
combined, by insensible gradations, with the white. The drifting took
away the monotony of snow; and the whole vale of Grasmere, seen from
the terrace walk in Easedale, was as varied, perhaps more so, than even
in the pomp of autumn. In the distance was Loughrigg-Fell, the
basin-wall of the lake: this, from the summit downward, was a rich
o