I remember well my intense delight at my first introduction to mountains worthy of the name.

But I mean to mention here two only of my reminiscences of that first visit to lake-land.
The first of these concerns an excursion on Windermere with Captain Hamilton, the author of _Cyril Thornton_, which had at that time made its mark.

He had recently received a new boat, which had been built for him in Norway.

He expected great performances from her, and as there was a nice fresh wind idly curling the surface of the lake, he invited us to come out with him and try her, and in a minute or two we were speeding merrily before the breeze towards the opposite shore.
But about the middle of the lake we found the water a good deal rougher, and the wind began to increase notably.

Hamilton held the tiller, and not liking to make fast the haulyard of the sail, gave me the rope to hold, with instructions to hold on till further orders.