be good for
them. Catch me getting done like that again! I'm going to start now, 8
a.m., as I want to get ahead of the Cambridge idiots. Page 54 of the
guide-book has all about the scenery at Ambleside.

12 o'clock, Dungeon Ghyl.--Stopping here for lunch. Awful grind up the
valley in the sun with an empty stomach. Going in for a 9 pence lunch
here. The fellow says the weather is going to break this afternoon, and
I'd better mind what I'm up to, going up Scafell Pike. He wants me to
take a guide, that's his little dodge. As if I couldn't take care of
myself! I've got it all up in the guide-book, and guess I could find
the top blindfold. I'll laugh if I get up before the Cambridge fellows.
They'll probably funk it, though, or miss the way, and have to get me
to give them a leg up. It'll be a good lesson for them.

Don't think much of the inn here, so I'm glad I shan't be putting up
here for the night. The waiter looks as if he expects to be tipped for
everything. He seemed regularly cut up when I told him I was going on
to Wastdale Head from the top, and shouldn't be staying here. Of course
he tried to get me to come back, and said I could never get over to
Wastdale this night. All stuff, I know, for it's no distance on the
map. "Oh," he said, "don't you believe in the maps; they're no guide.
Take my advice, and don't try to go to Wastdale, my boy." I was a good
mind to be down on him for being so familiar, but what was the use? As
if he knew better than the guide-books! Ah! here comes my lunch.

4 p.m., top of Rosset Ghyl.--Had to pay 1 shilling for that 9 pence
lunch after all, as they charged 3 pence for attendance in the bill.
Didn't care to have a row, as the Cambridge fellows turned up just that
minute. Beastly the way they always grin when they see me. As if they
couldn't grin at one another. I cleared out as soon as they came, and
started up here.

There was a mile or so of pretty level path to the bottom of this
ravine, and then it was a tremendous climb up to the top. You have to
scramble nearly straight up among the rocks on each side of the
waterfall, and if one of my hobnails went off, I'm certain half a dozen
did. I'll tell my father not to pay that cobbler at all. I can't make
out how the sheep manage to go up and down this place as they do. I
know I'm glad I'm not coming back this way. I thought I was over once
or twice as it was, owing to those wretched boots.

The Cambrid