ade some
porridge, and then departed. It was rainy and cold, with a strong wind.

Coleridge was afraid of the cold in the boat, so he determined to walk
down the lake, pursuing the same road we had come along. There was
nothing very interesting for the first three or four miles on either side
of the water: to the right, uncultivated heath or poor coppice-wood, and
to the left, a scattering of meadow ground, patches of corn,
coppice-woods, and here and there a cottage. The wind fell, and it began
to rain heavily. On this William wrapped himself in the boatman's plaid,
and lay at the bottom of the boat till we came to a place where I could
not help rousing him.

We were rowing down that side of the lake which had hitherto been little
else than a moorish ridge. After turning a rocky point we came to a bay
closed in by rocks and steep woods, chiefly of full-grown birch. The
lake was elsewhere ruffled, but at the entrance of this bay the breezes
sunk, and it was calm: a small island was near, and the opposite shore,
covered with wood, looked soft through the misty rain. William, rubbing
his eyes, for he had been asleep, called out that he hoped I had not let
him pass by anything that was so beautiful as this; and I was glad to
tell him that it was but the beginning of a new land. After we had left
this bay we saw before us a long reach of woods and rocks and rocky
points, that promised other bays more beautiful than what we had passed.
The ferryman was a good-natured fellow, and rowed very industriously,
following the ins and outs of the shore; he was delighted with the
pleasure we expressed, continually repeating how pleasant it would have
been on a fine day. I believe he was attached to the lake by some
sentiment of pride, as his own domain--his being almost the only boat
upon it--which made him, seeing we were willing gazers, take far more
pains than an ordinary boatman; he would often say, after he had
compassed the turning of a point, 'This is a bonny part,' and he always
chose the bonniest, with greater skill than our prospect-hunters and
'picturesque travellers;' places screened from the winds--that was the
first point; the rest followed of course,--richer growing trees, rocks
and banks, and curves which the eye delights in.

The second bay we came to differed from the rest; the hills retired a
short space from the lake, leaving a few level fields between, on which
was a cottage embosomed in trees: the bay